Crosswinds
by dixiegurl13
Summary: Post G1 Movie. A wandering soul decides to take up residence back on Earth. Problem is not everyone is too thrilled with the idea of having a resident ghost haunt their air base, least of all Capt. Alexis "Spades" O'Conner. Starscream X Alexis.
1. Ghost in the Machine

**A/N: Welcome all to my new plot bunny. This one is going to dabble in and out of the AU side of the house, so please allow me to explain the whos-its and whats-its of the story. To begin with, this fic is based off of (G1) Transformers: The Animated Movie and that's about as far as it goes. I'm only using the Movie to establish a time point. This fic will take place after the Battle of Autobot City but before the events of "Starscream's Ghost" therefore, establishing my AU. Also, don't expect updates to be regular since I have two other stories in the works and they take priority. One final note, this story is strictly fictional; I will try to get AF protocol as close to accurate as possible, but I am by no means an expert. With that said, please enjoy and review!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own them; don't claim to own 'em; never will own them! All non-transformer content is mine, however!**

**Chapter One: Ghost in the Machine**

The vastness of space is unimaginable to human comprehension. It extends in all directions, all-encompassing, all-consuming. As humans we have often wondered what vast secrets the mysterious void of both fiction and reality had to offer us. Were they the realizations of our greatest imaginative dreams or would they be the horrid reality we have always feared the most? Could there be no greater frontier than space? Many have looked upon its rich, velvety blackness and wondered what freedoms it could offer, but to a tiny phosphorescent, sentient orb the wonders of space seemed like an eternal, velvety black prison, with no end in sight and no trial pending. It was an unending hell of nothingness, a bleak oblivion void of wonder. How long had it been? Forty vorns? Four hundred vorns? Could it have even been four-thousand? Time has such a way of escaping from any individual who seeks to capture its essence.

However, no matter how intelligent the species, or how sporadic an individual tries to act, all sentience gravitates to familiarity and patterns. Familiarity is a beacon of hope in a sea of uncertainty. With this in mind, the small, insignificant sphere of luminance found itself hovering beyond the atmosphere of a beautiful blue-green globe orbiting the star Sol. Its familiar surface both soothed and irritated the floating soul. This particular planet did not hold many fond memories for the drifting spirit. However, Cybertron seemed as distant as an alternate reality and in the vastness of space; this planet inevitably circled the same star, the same way, with no deviation of its celestial path. So, given the orb's very limited options this planet would have to be the next best thing to home. At this point in time, what mattered most to the tiny, floating orb was that this planet offered familiarity, a place it had had experience with and an opportunity for refuge and purpose. This pathetic, Pit-derived half-existence was worse than deactivation. Before in its previous life, the orb had a purpose, a goal to achieve, something to occupy the mind and retain sanity, but this…this half-life stripped it of everything, everything tangible and all that it had once strived to achieve. What was the use of existing if one couldn't touch? Couldn't feel? Couldn't achieve? Or even manipulate? It was a cursed existence of the worst kind!

As it floated there in the inky blackness, the tiny sphere bobbed up and down as if finally agreeing with itself that this insignificant, insect-infested planet would at least provide some form of entertaining observation. After all, though stupid and quite primitive, humans were amusing to watch, if only to observe their irrational, and animal-like behavior. It definitely was a better option than watching a nebula cloud form or the death of a star. Primus himself only knew how many times he had seen that occur!

Slowly the tiny, phosphorous-like sphere entered the atmosphere and began descending to the planet's surface. It had no worries for re-entry friction, or for pitiful human detection sensors. Air molecules passed harmlessly through its essence; by all intents and purposes the sphere did not exist, at least not in normal standards. It glided soundlessly through the cloud cover, old feelings pulling at the orb's memories. Oh, what it would give to feel the gentle caress of the wind right now! Or to feel the soft, vapory kiss of the clouds when he used to slice through their wispy crowns!

Passions of deep regret and longing pulled at his essence, but the tiny orb continued downward. Down further and further, watching with slight disgust as the rocky red earth drew closer and closer. In the distance of the desert night the tiny, glowing sphere could distinguish the squat, flat buildings that denoted human existence in this wasteland. It flickered briefly in the night; at least in this form the orb need not worry about dust and dirt irritating his joints and servos, for he had none. As it drew closer to the complex, phasing through an imposing chain-link and concertina wire fence, it began to distinguish the different types of buildings that composed the human compound. Much to the orb's surprise and subsequent delight, a large aircraft runway stretched into the distance, the white markings and numerals seemed to gleam in the very pale light offered by the planet's sole satellite. Recognition instantly caused the orb to glow brighter. This was perfect! He couldn't have planned his return better!

Slowly the tiny ball of condensed light drifted across the smooth surface of the runway, taking in every miniscule crack, every tiny pebble that occasionally dotted the surface. He never thought he'd feel relief to be back on this mudball, but he did if only a little reluctantly. Floating low to the ground, the glowing orb stopped before the inviting maw of an open-ended hangar, slowly absorbing the welcoming sight within. There parked to one side of the massive storage building, one among several, sat a sleek killing machine, but a machine the tiny orb had grown quite familiar with, and dare he say fond of, since before his passing.

It slowly circled the aircraft, taking in every rivet, every screw and every square inch of finely-polished sheet metal. He never thought that looking at a piece of inferior Earth-crafted machinery would be such a welcoming sight! The canopy reflected the gentle glow of the dim, interior lights; the light grey paint gave the aircraft a soft, inviting tone. It was then an idea came to the ball of floating light and sentience.

Was it possible? Was he "physically" capable? There was only one way to find out. The tiny orb approached the aircraft hesitantly at first and then with increasing confidence. Like a hot knife through butter, the glowing sphere phased straight through the canopy; it hovered within the cockpit as if in disbelief of what it had done. Then, it slowly floated towards the instrument panel, but paused just before coming into contact with it. After a few seconds of deliberation, it slowly passed into the panel via the radar screen. All the instruments within the aircraft briefly illuminated from this new power source, the brilliance of the lighting filling the cockpit.

The orb quickly diffused and spread to the farthest reaches of the plane's inner circuitry, marveling at this new but invigorating feeling. Oh, the familiarity! How long had it been since he felt electrical pulses coursing through wiring, breakers, and switchbacks? It was revitalizing! It felt as if he had been given a new lease on life. At this moment it didn't matter that the aircraft was made of inferior materials or that it had been designed by the grossly limited capability of human intellect. All that mattered now was that this piece of machinery gave the ghost what he had been seeking since he began this Primus-damned existence. It would never fully replace his old, magnificent body, but it would give him a place of residence, a place to anchor his drifting soul.

Another possibility flitted into his consciousness; it certainly behooved him to try. Tentatively, he tried to draw current from the surrounding circuits. Slowly, ever so slowly, he felt the electricity begin to build around him. This was new. He hadn't realized he could manipulate energy in this fashion. He began to pulse the current to and fro within the aircraft's frame, feeling every square nano-inch of its internal surface. This was marvelous! With newfound confidence, the ghost surged a current to the jet's ailerons, causing the metal flaps to rise and lower. Oh, it just keeps getting better! He tried again, this time manipulating the jet's elevators, pure glee flooding his being as he finally had a connection with a tangible object. Maybe being a ghost would not be a total loss. And so he continued to experiment with the aircraft's inner and outer workings, re-familiarizing himself with old functions while developing new methods to achieve said functions. His ghostly essence made it significantly more difficult to control devices that he would have never given a second thought had he been in his former body, but now that he finally had a project to focus his mind to, such inferiorities passed by unnoticed, as well as the astonished maintenance worker standing not 20 feet from the jet's nose.

Having worked the graveyard shift for well over a year now, there was little the worker had not seen that surprised him. But as he slowly swept the end of the hanger free of desert grit, the sound of flexing cables undoubtedly drew his attention. No pilots should be pre-checking their rides this early in the morning. As he approached the aircraft in question, the worker strained his eyes to glimpse at another human being, but none appeared. As the various flaps raised and lowered without human intervention, he scratched his scalp puzzledly before slowly turning away and walking out of the hangar. He knew drinking a bottle of Jack before his shift had been a bad idea. This only proved it.

* * *

_BEEP!...BEEP!...BEEP!...BEEP! _The alarm shrieked in the still, morning hours. With a groan of frustration, Alexis O'Conner slapped at the obnoxious alarm clock to silence its incessant voice. Seven years of service to her nation had not quite made her a morning person. Groaning softly, the slender, young woman of thirty threw the blankets back and sat up on the edge of the bed. She stood, wobbly at first, then gradually raised her thin arms above her head and loosed a mighty yawn. In the bed across the room, her roommate continued to sleep soundly, peacefully oblivious to early rising officer. _Lucky dog,_ Alexis thought to herself as she drowsily made her way to the shower.

The sharp sting of the cold water quickly doused any remaining sleep-like tendencies. She may have hated mornings, but Alexis loved her early morning shower. It always left her feeling refreshed, vitalized and pleasingly clean. After her shower she proceeded to fix her hair, carefully adhering to the USAF regulations. She blow-dried it quickly and then pulled her dark chocolate locks back into a pony-tail. She ensured no bumps or fly-aways made any unnecessary appearances before she twisted the dark tail around and around until it made a neat, tight bun. She finished the style by tying it off with a black elastic band and a dash of hairspray. Her morning bathroom ritual completed, Alexis quickly dressed herself, donning a crisp, green flight suit over her undergarments.

A small grunt from the bedroom drew her attention. Her bright green eyes darted to the doorframe where, several seconds later, her roommate appeared.

"Up awfully early, aren't you?" her roommate asked, groggily rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Have an early morning flight today," Alexis responded, pulling her boot on her right foot and tying the laces.

"Ah, OK, that explains it," the other woman replied, beginning to make her way to bathroom.

"What's your schedule like today?" Alexis inquired, continuing to finish her boot-tying.

"I think I might try to run down Roadkill and review our flight plan for tomorrow."

Alexis tried to suppress a grin at the unintended pun. "Well good luck with that one," she replied, standing to her feet and preparing to leave for the chow hall.

"Let me know how your flight goes," her roommate called as Alexis opened the door.

"No prob!"

As she walked down the corridor, Alexis couldn't help but reflect on how she and Clarissa "Tomcat" Taber had come to know one another. They first met back in the beginning throws of Undergraduate Pilot Training. As is the custom in the flying community, all up and coming pilots would earn their call sign due to some type of buffoonery, a pun off their name, or a peculiar personality trait. Taber's was a combination of the latter two. The fiery redhead quickly let it be known that she wasn't to be treated as some prissy-headed prep female. Even though she wore make-up religiously every day and not a hair strayed from its place, Clarissa could be as scrappy as ring-tailed tomcat cornered in an alleyway, hence one reason for her misnomer. As for the true and official naming moment of her squadron mate, one unfortunate drunk made the grave mistake of trying to hit on her, and with a very poor pick-up line to boot. She had slapped him for the rueful comment, but accidentally grazed his cheek with her finely manicured fingernails—leaving very cat-like scratches across his face. As a result, one of the observing, fellow officers present announced that her call sign would be "Tomcat" and since Taber's initials spelled "C.A.T" anyway it seemed very fitting and had stuck ever since.

Alexis and Clarissa had been the only two females to successfully complete UPT and had formed a strong friendship during and since those days. Now seven years later both were fortunate enough to be stationed together here at Caldwell Air Force Base. Tomcat was not scheduled to fly today, but that didn't mean she didn't have administrative duties to attend.

The sun had yet to break the night's dark grasp on the new day; Alexis knew she needed to hurry in order to meet with her crew chief. The chow hall was mostly empty when she arrived, so she had no problem grabbing a light breakfast and booking out as soon as she had finished.

She walked briskly to the hangar, the cool, desert morning air kissed her cheeks softly and left nice, rosy swirls on her cheeks as a parting gift. As she approached the open-ended hangar she could see her crew chief, Staff Sergeant Darrell "Crow" Barr, performing his pre-flight check. He was about her age, with sandy blonde hair and light blue eyes. Young though he was Crow knew his job inside out and upside down and there wasn't an officer, flight or otherwise, that didn't respect the man. Alexis felt very privileged to have such a great crew chief as both a friend and advisor. They worked well together and Alexis would not even consider pulling rank on him no matter the occasion.

"Morning, Spades. Ready for your flight?" the crew chief cheerily greeted her.

Alexis grinned in return. "Ready, willing and waiting, Crowbar," she replied with equal enthusiasm. "How do things check out?"

"Only need you to perform your own pre-flight check and you're ready to roll," he replied, gently slapping his clipboard against her shoulder. "Have fun up there."

"You know I will. I wouldn't be doing this job if it wasn't a little fun," she said, taking his clipboard before he could whack her again.

"Scorch will meet you at the runway to begin your exercise."

"Oh, goody," Alexis said, drawling the words a little longer than necessary as she skimmed over her check requirements.

"You'll do fine, gal. They didn't call you Spades for nothing, you know."

He gave her a parting grin before walking off down the hangar to talk with the other maintenance crews filtering in and out of the building. Alexis just shook her head, a small grin on her lips. She then proceeded to begin her pre-flight check. The whole process didn't take long as this routine was old hash for the pilot. However, Alexis didn't let monotony interfere with thoroughness as she inspected everything with a scrutiny commendable for the White Glove Award. Once her check was completed she gave the clipboard to a nearby technician and proceeded to climb into her craft. She paused at the canopy and silently read the painted words just below the cockpit—_Capt. Alexis "Spades" O'Conner_. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she proceeded to climb into her seat. She never thought she would have made it this far; heck, her parents never thought she would make it past preliminary flight training, let alone becoming a successful fighter pilot.

Slowly she fastened her helmet and began to flip the switches that would bring her powerful F-15C Eagle to life. The twin engines ignited with a soft roar and Alexis turned her attention to the director signaling her out of the hangar. With deliberate slowness her jet exited the building and began to taxi to the end of the runway. Her director gave a sharp salute and Alexis flipped him the thumbs up sign and gave her own salute in return. The sun had just begun to rise over the horizon, bathing everything in golden, iridescent light. Its rays glinted off Alexis's dark visor as she waited for Traffic Control to give her the go-ahead.

A dull roar drew her attention to her right side; another F-15 was drawing up to her wingtip. Scorch gave her a brief salute before focusing on the runway ahead, patiently waiting for the exercise to begin. Alexis liked the young pilot. He wasn't the newest member of the squadron, but he had only been stationed at Caldwell for six months now. Scorch was good, real good and Alexis knew he would give her a workout.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Alexis received the transmission giving them permission for take-off. She fired up the thrusters and felt the bird begin to quickly pick up speed. Almost right next to her, Scorch matched her speed for speed. With a precision almost unfathomable, the two jets roared down the runway, mere feet separating one wingtip from another's fuselage. With a deafening roar, the mighty Eagles lifted off simultaneously and went into a nearly vertical climb. Small white lines on either wingtip trailed off behind the jets, vortices formed from the rush of air over the wings' surface.

This was what flying was all about. Alexis tilted her head back and watched as the buildings became match boxes and the runway just a charcoal stripe as she flew up to altitude. At thirty thousand feet she leveled off and waited on her wingman to draw even with her. They flew in silence for about ten minutes, just long enough to get away from the base and out into the desert to perform their maneuvers.

"_You ready?" _he radioed.

"_Affirmative," _she replied. _"On your mark."_

"_Roger that. Three…Two…One…Mark!"_ Scorch violently banked his jet to the right, veering down and off their flight path.

Alexis followed suit, banking her craft to the left. In today's exercise she would begin as the aggressor, trying to get a lock on her wingman in a mock dogfight. It would definitely be interesting today. The cloud cover was thick with billowy, cotton-like cumulus clouds limiting their visibility and turning their arena into a large game of hide-and-seek.

Scorch's F-15 streaked by her Head's Up Display. She instantly pulled her stick further to the left, tightening the turn in an attempt to get onto Scorch's six and end the fight quickly. But quick and easy was the farthest thing on Scorch's mind. She saw the jet immediately bank right and slowly try to gain altitude. She followed his every move, trying furiously to get a lock on the jet ahead of her. Suddenly he dived, quickly accelerating away from her and putting a huge amount of distance between them.

She grinned underneath her helmet; two could play at this game. Pushing the flight stick forward, her other hand on the throttle, Alexis quickly accelerated allowing the natural force of gravity to increase her airspeed. Farther up ahead she saw Scorch's tiny dot of an F-15 loop into the air and begin to head back in her direction. It was a very bold, if foolhardy move. Her HUD began to beep and the tiny yellow circle quickly blinked over to red—a target lock.

"Gotcha." Suddenly the lock deactivated and Alexis felt her jet slow considerably, almost to the point of stalling. "What the…?" She instantly checked her fuel gauge, but it read more than half full. Did she have a leak? Or was it some other malfunction?

Abruptly her display began to beep incessantly and the annoying computer voice, affectionately known as "Bitchin' Betty," began to live up to her name.

_Warning….Warning! Missile Alert! Missile Alert! Warning…._

"Shut up!" she barked at the automated voice. "Do you think I don't already know that!?" She tried to move the flight stick to begin her evasive maneuvers, but the steering apparatus wouldn't budge. She checked her other gauges and displays; everything was reading normally. Strange. The jet almost acted as if the autopilot were malfunctioning, that is if the autopilot were even engaged. She glanced out the cockpit to see a brilliant display of flares shoot from her opponent. "Shit!" she cursed. There was still time, albeit not much, for her to counteract. "Come on, come on, COME ON!" she shouted through gritted teeth. Now was not the time to engage in a round of "air chicken." She felt the plane begin to shudder as they rapidly approached the stall speed. She heard the jet's thrusters begin to spit and sputter as if starved of fuel. Still all her gauges read normal and gave no indication that a problem was occurring. Would she have to eject? If she were to enter into a spin now, she would have no choice but to do so since the controlling mechanisms were not responding, even in manual override. Then she felt the flight stick give, albeit just a tiny fraction.

At the last moment, the stick gave way completely to her commands and the Eagle banked violently to the left. Alexis felt her body slam into the harness straps as the extreme g-force maneuver took its full effect. Wing over wing, the jet barrel-rolled violently away from the make-believe, oncoming projections. They weren't using real missiles anyway, but laser beams, sensors and flares. Her alarms remained silent thank goodness; she hadn't been officially "shot". She leveled the jet once more and opened her radio to her squadron mate.

"_Scorch, I'm having mechanical difficulties. I think it best we call this exercise off until Crowbar can check this bird out."_

"_I was wondering what you were doing," _Scorch replied. He eased his jet up next to her wingtip and flew side-by-side with her. _"What kind of tech problems were you experiencing?"_

"_A lot. Slow response, lack of response and then hypersensitivity. Oh yeah, and my locking system wouldn't hold or track you."_

"_That last one sounds like a pilot error if you ask me."_

"_Don't push your luck, newbie!"_

"_Whatever you say; it's all right to make excuses. We all do it from time to time!"_

"_OK , whatever, noob. Think you could tail my six and make sure I don't experience anymore problems?"_

"_Not a prob, Spades; not a prob. Scorch out."_

She watched as the younger pilot eased his jet back behind hers in a single file line position. She knew she would never live this flight down, with Scorch or her other squadron mates once word got out, mechanical errors or not. Thankfully, it seemed as if the jet was responding normally now. As long as Alexis had been winged she had never quite experienced so many malfunctions at once. For once she couldn't wait to touch down back at base and get her feet on solid ground. She'd had enough excitement (and humiliation) for one day.


	2. Intelligent Haunting

**A/N: Enjoy guys! With a little luck and mine and my husband's over-active imaginations, this will be a Starscream and Alexis story like you've never read! (I hope anyways! ;)**

**Chapter 2: Intelligent Hauntings**

Oddly enough Alexis had no further problems as she landed her Eagle with the practiced ease of hundreds of hours of experience. The wheels touched down with a short _screech,_ a small puff of white-grey smoke signaling the final touchdown. She applied the air brake and eased back on the throttle feeling the jet begin to slow, surely but steadily. To the right and slightly behind, Scorch mimicked her landing procedure as easily as if he were her shadow. Together the two Eagles taxied down the runway before each turned in opposite directions to head for their respective hangars.

Alexis brought her bird to a complete stop a few hundred feet shy of her hangar and began to initiate her shutdown procedure. With a dying thrum the twin Pratt and Whitney F-100 turbofan engines whined to a stop, sounding almost reluctant to be silenced after such a short run. One of Alexis's crew members quickly secured a ladder and scaled its short height. Alexis then opened the canopy and handed her pilot satchel to the crew member before climbing down the ladder herself.

"What happened, Captain?" her crewman, A1C Scott McFarland, asked once she was on the ground and walking towards a very agitated crew chief. "You weren't due back until 1300."

"Your guess is as good as mine at this moment," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders. The Airman gave her the satchel before hurrying off to help his fellow crewmen maneuver the jet back into the hangar.

"What the hell happened, Spades!?" Crowbar said somewhat gruffly as he approached his pilot. "Please tell me you didn't ingest a bird or…"

"I don't know what happened, Crow," Alexis said, cutting her crew chief off before he could begin one of his famous rants. In many ways, Crowbar treated the jet like it was a person; even his wife joked around and said he spent more time with that "damn plane" than he did with her. But that only showed the man's level of devotion to his job, his country and especially his pilot's safety.

"Scorch and I hadn't gotten 15 minutes into our maneuvers when it started to act up. At first, I thought maybe I had a fuel leak, but my pressure held steady and no alarms went off; it just lost power, not enough to stall, but almost. Then, I lost all hydraulic control. I couldn't bank left or right, climb or dive. It's like it just froze; even the manual override had little effect. Then as quickly as it began it stopped. I regained control, notified Scorch of what happened and headed back here. Never had another problem."

"That's very odd. I gave that bird a clean bill of health; checked over every nut, bolt, nook and cranny," Crowbar replied, watching as the crew pulled the jet into the hangar. He placed a calloused hand on his chin and stroked it thoughtfully. "Hmmm. Maybe something came loose after take-off. Well, nothing to do now but take another look-see." He clapped Alexis over the shoulder before resignedly walking into hangar to begin the post-flight check.

Alexis gave a sigh and watched as Crowbar disappeared into the tall, half-cylindrical building. After watching her crew chief disappear into the shaded depths, she turned on her heel and made her way to a different building. Crowbar had his duties to attend and now she had hers. Looks like it was back to the flight room to give her post-flight debrief.

* * *

Later that evening, Alexis returned to her room flustered, drained and more than a little irritable. Tomcat had yet to return from her day's assignments so Alexis had the place to herself. Her post-flight debriefing had gone just about as well as she expected it would—she was currently the laughing stock of her squadron. Her fellow squadronmates had razed her pride fairly good. She knew it was all in good fun and if the same set of circumstances had befell any of them she'd be right there with the others egging that unfortunate soul, but still it all changed when _you _were the object of everyone else's laughter.

She walked into the bedroom and quickly changed out of her uniform, preferring a more casual pair of shorts and a brown PT-shirt to the olive drab flight suit. A black and stainless coffee pot set upon a small counter in the kitchenette. She quickly prepared a pot for brewing knowing that the bitter fluid would help smooth her ruffled nerves. She walked back into the small living area and plopped down on the couch, turning the television on as she did so. She idly flipped through the channels trying to find a program of interest while the delicious aroma of brewing coffee filled the small apartment.

Crowbar was still no closer to finding the source of the problem than he had been earlier that morning. As a result, her crew chief was just as irritable as she was. After her post flight debrief, Alexis had hung around to try and help Crowbar as much as she could, answering questions, fetching tools, turning wrenches anything really to help her friend out and to learn as much about her jet as possible.

Most pilots were merely concerned with operations and flying their sorties; only a precious few every really learned just how their jet worked. Since Alexis had been a former maintenance mechanic herself on the F-16 platform before she went officer, the young woman had a passion for all things mechanical. As a result of her background, Crowbar allowed her to help out now and then as much for the conversation as for the help. By the end of the day, neither had come up with a theory as to what caused the complications or how to prevent them in the future.

A sharp, repetitive beep announced her coffee was finished brewing. Tiredly, the F-15 pilot stood to her feet and walked back into the kitchenette to pour herself a cup of coffee. The bitter drink made her cringe at first, but she welcomed its sudden jolt of invigorating caffeine. About that time she heard the door click open. Stepping to doorway, Alexis saw Tomcat enter their room and gave her a small wave around her coffee cup.

"Heard what happened," Tomcat began. She threw her satchel onto the couch and plopped down next to it. She quickly began to release the elastic bands that held her hair back, allowing the fiery locks to fall free around her shoulders. She shook her head vigorously and ran her long, slender fingers across her scalp, relishing the feeling of fresh air kissing her roots.

"I figured you did. Bad news around this joint goes from 0 to Mach 7 in less than five seconds," Alexis said wryly. "Want some coffee?"

"Sure," Tomcat replied, beginning to untie her boots. "Have you and Crowbar figured out what went wrong or are the gremlins still stumping you at this point?"

Alexis walked back into the kitchenette and grabbed another coffee cup. She poured her friend a cup of the black, aromatic drink and then walked back out to give it to her. "Gremlins 1, us 0. We're still working on it. However, Crowbar is considering bumping it back up to Code Two status. Jury's still out on that one. "

"Eh, don't sweat it, Spades. Everything happens for a reason. You'll be back in the clouds before you can say 'Bob's your uncle.' Unless, you really do believe in gremlins…" Tabor trailed off, a mischievous grin pulling on her lips.

Alexis snorted. "Pllleeeaasse. I stopped believing in ghosts, gremlins, and goblins a long time ago. There's a logical explanation for everything and I'm sure me and Crowbar will figure it out."

* * *

Nestled deep within the intimate circuitry of an F-15C Eagle, Starscream fumed. Well, he fumed about as much as an ectoplasmic entity currently residing in a metallic construct possibly could. He had hoped to be able to wrest complete control of the jet from its human operator, but his attempts failed miserably. He refused to think that it wasn't possible. The fact that he fought with the pilot until a near-fatal stall-out proved that. He needed to practice more, needed to explore his new physical state more. The capabilities of this new state of being were still incredibly new to him. The idea of ghosts or ghostly existences was also still new to him. Up until Galvatron disintegrated his body, he never believed that such an existence was possible. Cybertronian science wasn't devoted to the following of such trivial pursuits as humans often did. Cybertronians believed your spark became one with the Matrix as soon as it ceased functioning, that was that—no grey area, no room for questions. Unless of course, Primus deemed you a worthy addition to the collection of poor souls burning in the Pit. But still, a mech either went one way or the other; there was no trapped in transition slag. Starscream harrumphed silently to himself; it seemed Primus had a sense of humor when it came to his death.

But still, he was learning things he never thought possible. Since his time within the jet, Starscream had come to master the little nuances that controlled the machine. Honestly, what else could he do? Starscream had never been a mech to sit idly and watch life pass him by. He was a scholar by trade, a deceiver by profession. Even if he didn't have a body, he would still learn as much as he could about his new form and how it would interact with his surroundings. Every new discovery, every failed attempt, every small success could mean the difference between finding a way back to his old glorious and wonderful self, or remaining a glorified lightbulb for the rest of eternity.

A few of his discoveries had been very beneficial. One of which it seemed he was undetectable to human instruments and perception—at least as long as he remained within the jet. Hah! Even in death, the humans couldn't detect a being as magnificently intelligent as he! Although admittedly, they were ignorant of his presence (and he would like to keep it that way), but still he doubted had they known he was there, they would be unable to track him. Yes, being a spiritual entity did have its advantages.

As such, he would put to work his other discoveries while in this form; most notably, his ability to manipulate anything touching or connected to the plane. Just because he couldn't control his new found home as he would have his old body, didn't mean he couldn't wreak havoc with the squishies' pathetic, feeble minds. Psychological warfare often yielded more plenteous if entertaining results than the real deal anyway.

Taking comfort in this fact, Starscream settled himself deeper into the circuits of the Eagle. Content to patiently (for once) wait for the next unsuspecting victim to dare to mess with his new domain, Starscream began to conceive a myriad of devilish little plans he would institute upon their next meeting.

* * *

It started with the little things. A technician would leave a wrench resting on the wingtip only to come back five minutes later and find it on the floor. Another mechanic would open a hatchway only to have the lid slam back onto his head, instigating several colorful curses and a few laughs from the other techs that happened to catch the scene. At one point, an electrical systems tech was in the cockpit, checking the instruments only to have the canopy slide close, trapping him within the close quarters. For about half an hour, the tech beat on the inside of the glass trying to escape. Unfortunately, not many believed his story since the occurrence happened around lunch time. Many thought it was a fabricated lie; its purpose to stoke the fires of suspicion beginning to brew within Hanger Seven Alpha. Even Crowbar had his experiences. One day he left a small air ratchet on the leading edge of the wing. As he stooped down to retrieve an errant nut, he heard a very faint scraping sound. It was the only warning he had.

_Ka-thump!_

"_Ouch! Son of bitch!_ _What the f…!?"_

"Crowbar!? Are you OK? What the hell happened?"

"How the hell should I know!? One minute I'm reaching down to pick up this damn nut and the next minute the damn ratchet slides off the wing and clobbers me in the back! If I didn't know any better, I'd say this damn jet has a penchant for bodily harm against mechanics."

"Well, it's not just you, Crowbar," McFarland said, cautiously picking up the ratchet as if it were a rattlesnake.

"What do you mean?" the crew chief queried, rubbing his back tenderly where the ratchet had struck him. That was going to be a nice, pretty bruise come in the morning.

"Well, Crow…" McFarland began, casting a wary eye at the jet, "A lot of the guys are getting mighty jumpy here of late. Things like what just happened to you have been happening to anybody that works on Captain Spades' jet for any length of time. It's getting downright spooky if you ask me."

"Aw, come on Scotty! Don't tell me you believe in ghosts and haints and stuff?"

"I used to not, but damn it Crow! I don't know anymore. I watched you put that ratchet on that wing. You set it a good eight inches back of the edge; now how do you explain it sliding off and hitting you in the back? And don't tell me you stepped on the hose 'cause I _know _you didn't; I was watchin' you the entire time."

Crowbar was about to reply, but stopped himself short. He hadn't stepped on the hose. So how did that ratchet slide off the edge? He scratched the stubble of dark brown hair beginning to show around the edges of his crew cut. He never really put much stock into ghosts and hauntings before. Sure, he and his old childhood friends used to entertain themselves with spooky stories around a campfire back in his younger days. Heck, they even played around in an old Civil War graveyard growing up; what kid hadn't? But to give serious thought to the possibility of a haunting? He just wasn't willing to accept that quite yet.

"I tell ya what, Scotty," Crowbar said, placing a reassuring hand on his subordinate, "I'll start keeping track of things from here on out. I'm not entirely convinced we have otherworldly visitors just yet, but if things get any worse or continue like they have been, I'll report them. All right?"

"All right, Crowbar," McFarland said, a small grin pulling the corners of his mouth up. The crew chief slapped the Airman on the shoulder before heading towards the exit of the hangar; a nice, cold bottle of water sounded good right about now.

* * *

If Starscream could smile, what an evil, malignant one it would be. He could feel his power growing. Not power as in a measurable force or a desirable position, but it was more like a mastery over his new form. He could do things now he would have never thought he'd been able to while floating in space. In the several days that have passed since he had returned to Earth, he had learned to manipulate solid objects touching the frame of the plane, he could open and close any door or hatchway at will, he had even begun to master the powerful engines that were the heart of his new home. He was quickly learning how each and every part worked, moved, shifted and spun so that when the time came, he would be able control the engines as easily as he could the ailerons. Learning each and every system of the jet that used to represent his old body had been an experience to say the least. Unlike when he had been mortal, where every action and relay was a natural split-second reaction, he had needed to go back and concentrate immensely on that one particular action until he could achieve a desired result. The closest thing he could compare his discipline to was the human belief and study of telekinesis—the ability to move or distort an object using one's mental thought processes. Starscream manipulated electric and magnetic energy to achieve his goals. As he learned to master more and more powerful surges of electricity, he learned he could control and manipulate the larger and more complex machinations of the jet. It was thrilling to finally feel as if you were gaining back control over your life!

He honed his new-found skills by tricking and intimidating the humans. Primus, they were as naive as they were before he left this despicable planet! But, oh, how it was so much fun playing with their feeble minds! He relished the look of fear in their eyes whenever they walked by his jet; he laughed silently how so many hustled by more quickly than usual, their eyes never departing until they were at least two jets away. He, Starscream, was still able to induce fear among the masses, even as an ethereal entity! What should he try next?

In all honesty, he wished to leave his new home and search out the rest of the complex around him. His old curiosity was getting the best of him. However, to do so would mean to physically leave the plane and become the semi-spherical orb he had been before. Although he felt that most of the humans would ignore him, Starscream knew that more than enough of the pesky insects were already spooked as it was. He also knew that several beliefs in human society placed great emphasis on floating orbs as signs of a ghostly presence; he had no desire whatsoever to confirm that belief. As interesting as it would be to see the humans' reactions to his presence, he had no intention of revealing himself until absolutely necessary. If wisely implemented, he had the ability to blend in to the surroundings like no other reconnaissance personnel could hope to do. The question was how? Was it possible for him to take on a shape or form that wouldn't startle the humans too badly and still allow him to explore?

He settled down into the circuits to think this enigma through. When he had had a physical body, the need to blend in had been an issue then as well. They had used holographic generators then, an instrument of deception that could project a false image of a human driving or piloting their bodies in order to add to the illusion that they were regular human machines. Starscream thought back to the day when he had acquired his holoform.

Suddenly, it struck him. Why could he not apply the same principles he had been using to manipulate the jet's mechanical moving parts to create a holoform? It might be worth the effort—"effort" being the key word. He knew it would take a great deal of energy to produce an image of the magnitude he wanted, especially without a generator. Could he change his entire form? Enough to fool the humans? Well now, there was only one way to find out. So as it was, Starscream began to conserve the energy within the jet, gathering it and hoarding it around his ethereal core like a candle drawing moths to the flame. It would take time to draw as much energy as he felt he needed, not to mention he wanted to practice this exercise at night, when there were fewer humans milling about. But that was OK. Time, Starscream had learned, was no longer an issue.

* * *

Tomcat idly flipped through the channels of the late evening television programming. Her objective: try to find something half-way decent to watch. It was a losing battle. The sound of rustling polyester drew her attention from the screen.

"Where are you going this late at night?"

"To the hangar," Alexis replied as she finished donning her light windbreaker.

"Why, if I may ask?"

"Let's just say that after working on my next flight plan for the past four hours and fifteen minutes straight, I need a little reassurance as to why I'm actually doing this." Alexis fluffed her hair out from under the collar of the jacket and placed her room keys in the pocket.

"Oh, one of those nights, huh? I get those every now and then. Hey! I bet if you sit down and watch a few episodes of "I Love Lucy" with me you'll be ready to hit the books again in no time." The flickering television screen lit up the mischievous grin adorning Tomcat's face.

"Uh, I think _not_," Alexis replied, sarcasm plain in her voice. "I Love Lucy" reruns were Clarissa's cure-all for anything. Sometimes Alexis thought the show would make an adequate incentive to not screw up as well, but some punishments were better left unsaid. "I'll be back in a few. Don't wait up."

"'K," came the distracted reply as Clarissa rummaged through their DVD stack searching for said reruns.

Alexis made her way briskly out of the housing complex, eager to get out and taste the night air. The base was well-lit and guarded; she knew most of the MPs personally. There weren't very many places where a young woman could walk freely around at night alone, but fortunately for her, Caldwell Air Force Base was one of them.

She jogged the easy quarter-mile to the hangar with ease, the cool, dry desert air brushing her cheeks as she ran. Man, how she loved the desert! Sure, the heat could be oppressive at times, but its weird beauty and solemn nights more than made up for any discomfort. She approached the main entryway to the hangar, her sneakered footfalls nearly silent in the still desert night. Every jet was aligned perfectly in a row, the spacing between them faultless. The soft florescent glow from the overhead lights cast gentle shadows against the half-walls and concrete floor.

Alexis loved the hangar. It reminded her of why she loved her job, especially when she was buried neck-deep in paperwork or queep in Air Force lingo. Whenever she saw a jet or heard its powerful roar, she instantly remembered her first solo flight in the T-38 Talon, or the first squadron she was ever assigned to. Those pleasant memories beat down any doubts she had about her career decision; they reinforced and perpetuated her desire to fly. Too bad her parents still didn't support her decision.

With a soft sigh, she began walking down the broad center aisle of the hangar, eager to see her jet after days of being grounded for repairs. Crowbar had kept her up-to-date on the progress of repairs such as it were. He still had been unable to determine the cause of her problems, but subsequent testing hadn't revealed any future cause for concerns. So, she and Crowbar had sat down and decided she would still fly her jet under Code Two status. If they experienced no further problems after one month, he would bump her bird back to Code One.

As she approached the area where her jet was chocked, the lights within the hangar flickered briefly, casting everything in deep shadow. Almost instantly, they brightened again, returning to their normal wattage. _Odd_, Alexis thought to herself as she continued on her way. _Must have been a power surge or something._ She shrugged her shoulders and continued on down the aisle.

A light breeze had picked up outside; she could feel it whispering between the landing gear of the jets and felt it tugging gently on her pants legs. The light touch of air whisked through the hangar, carrying with it just the hint of the smell of moistened sand. In the distance, Alexis heard a gentle rumble. _A storm's moving in; no wonder the power was flickering, _she thought idly_. _As the nose of her jet came into view, Alexis smiled to herself. She wanted only to see her name under that cockpit, to know that it was still real, to know that all her hard work and heartache had paid off. But what she saw first instead, made her pause in startled surprise.

A man was sitting in her cockpit.

Their eyes met briefly—hers filled with shock and surprise and his filled with a shrouded, malevolence that sent a small tingle running down the back of her neck. It wasn't just the fact that a strange man was messing with her plane, but rather it was the disturbing visual that she could see the seat directly behind him. They stared at each other for a few precious seconds longer and then…

A fierce, ear-shattering boom rocked the hangar. Lightning brightened everything into a sharp, violent contrast and then the lights within the hangar went completely out. Alexis jumped and released a startled gasp; she hadn't even realized she had been holding her breath. Then just like before, the lights resumed their soft brilliance as quickly as they had lost it, but they revealed a frightening truth.

The man was no longer in the cockpit.

There had been no _click_ of the unlocking mechanism, no _swoosh _as the canopy slid back, no heavy _thuds_ indicating the man had jumped down for there was no ladder attached to the jet at this time. No evidence he had exited the jet and left the hangar. Alexis's heart began to beat wildly; she felt the hairs slowly stand up on the back of her neck.

She had no doubts of what she had seen. There clearly had been a man, a pilot, sitting in her jet! She had seen straight through his body, as if he wasn't completely there. It was disconcerting. It was more than a little unnerving. She slowly took a step backward and then another and another until she found herself sprinting out of the hangar as fast as her legs could carry her.

The wind had picked up drastically and large drops of rain were beginning to speckle the dry earth. More lightning flashed illuminating her sprinting figure and thunder shook the windows of nearby buildings. But Alexis didn't even notice. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she hardly realized she had sprinted all the way back to her apartment until the door handle was firmly in her grasp. Thankfully it was still unlocked which meant Tomcat was still awake.

Alexis yanked the door open, jumped inside and then slammed it shut, locking it in the process. Her sudden entry startled her roommate out of TVland.

"Spades! What the hell!?" She paused in mid-rant, noting the deathly pallor of her friend's skin. Alexis was pale anyway, but the pilot looked almost translucent now. She jumped to her feet and ran over to Alexis, grasping both of her wrists. "Spades, what's wrong!? What happened!? For Pete's sake, you look like you've seen a ghost!" she said, gently shaking her friend out of her daze.

Alexis slowly focused her glassy, green eyes on Clarissa's light blue ones; she could feel her friend trembling slightly. Alexis swallowed hard before trying to speak. "Clarissa," she said, using her friend's real name, "I think I might have."

**A/N: Please review; I luvs reviews!**


	3. Poltergeist

**A/N: For your reading pleasure, I present to you Chapter Three. I'm having fun writing this aspect of Screamer; I hope you'll have as much fun reading it!**

**Chapter Three: Poltergeist**

"What are you talking about, Spades?" Tomcat asked her friend, shaking her gently by the shoulders. Alexis's skin was a ghastly shade of white, her eyes were glassy and nonresponsive—it seemed almost as if the woman was in shock. "Speak to me!" Tomcat shook Alexis a little harder.

Finally Alexis gave her head a shake and looked Clarissa in the eye again. Her pupils were dilated within those striking green irises, a clear indication that whatever this woman saw had frightened her almost senseless. "I-I saw a man in my cockpit," she finally stuttered.

"That's it? You freaked out over a man in your cockpit?" Clarissa repeated, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Not just a man, Clarissa! I could see straight through him! I could frickin' see the seat on the other side of his body! Not only that, but he had _red_ eyes. _Red Eyes! _So, yes! I am freaking out over a man in my cockpit!"

"Are you sure you weren't just imagining all this? I mean, you were working awfully hard this afternoon."

"Damn it, Tomcat! I wasn't imagining anything! I saw a frickin' ghost in my cockpit!" Alexis shouted angrily. She stormed past her roommate and ran her hands through her hair irritably. She couldn't sit down, couldn't stand still. Her body was too keyed up to relax and allow her mind to calm down. Her mind was a swirl of emotions—one part of her wanted to reject what she had seen, to delete it completely and deny it ever happened, but the other part of her mind, her subconscious, always rebuked her other half, silently confirming the one thing she had always believed to be the material of campfire stories and silly superstitions. She heard a slight _click_ and turned her head sharply to the right. Tomcat had picked up the phone and already had the receiver to her mouth.

"What are you doing?" Alexis snapped, striding over to her roommate.

"I'm calling your crew chief," Tomcat replied in an equally snappish tone.

Alexis didn't even bother to ask why; she already knew the answer. Clarissa didn't believe her. Alexis grinned grimly despite herself. She would probably be doing the same thing if her roommate had come stampeding into the room shouting about ghosts haunting her plane as well.

"Hey, Crowbar. This is Tomcat," Alexis heard her friend say. "Yeah, that's right; I'm Spades' roomy. Say Crow, I need to ask you a quick question."

A pause.

"Yes, I know it's late…Was anyone scheduled to work on Spades' jet tonight? No? Well, Spades went on a midnight stroll and she says she saw a man playing around in her bird's cockpit."

Clarissa eyed her roommate thoughtfully; she placed a slender hand over the receiver. "Did you get a good look at him?" Clarissa asked Alexis softly.

"From what I could see, I think I could give a pretty good description," Alexis responded quietly.

Clarissa removed her hand. "Yeah, she can give ya a description…Oh, are you?...Great! We'll meet you there." The redhead hung up the phone and grabbed Alexis by the elbow. "Come on."

"What the…? Tomcat, where are we…? Oh! Hell no! Not tonight! Can't this wait until morning?" she pleaded. She really, _really _didn't want to go back to that hangar tonight.

"And why should we? If there's an asshole messing around your bird, then we need to make sure he didn't screw anything up. Besides, ol' Crow is going to meet us there. There's nothing to worry about."

"Because there's no one there! Clarissa, I know what I saw!"

"Well, we'll just go make sure, now won't we?"

With that, Clarissa dragged a very reluctant and displeased Alexis back into the hallway and towards the housing complex's exit. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Crowbar was a man who valued his beauty sleep; actually the gruff, old crew chief valued any sleep he could snag within a twenty-four hour period. So, when he received a phone call at approximately 0030, he was not very pleased and for that matter neither was his wife.

"Who's that, baby?" Mrs. Barr sleepily asked her husband as he crawled from bed, growling lowly to himself.

"That damnable Tomcat Tabor," Crowbar groused almost incoherently as he slipped into his ABU pants and boots.

"What's wrong?" she asked, slowly sitting up in bed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"She says Spades saw a man messing around our bird. I'm going to go check it out; make sure nothin's missin' and what not. Damn! A lot of shit has been happening around that jet lately," the tired crew chief, mumbled almost to himself. He ran a hand over his short-cropped, blonde hair and pulled a tan PT shirt over his muscular frame. "I'll be back in a few," he said, giving Mrs. Crowbar a quick peck on the cheek and walking out of the bedroom.

As the door quietly clicked shut behind him, Mrs. Barr snuggled deeper into the covers and rolled over onto her side. She sighed heavily and whispered, "That damn jet," but there was a tiny smile on her lips as she drifted back into sleep.

Crowbar walked quickly to the hangar, almost jogging the distance from his house to the tarmac. Large sprinkles of rain splashed his face and a strong wind pulled at the crew chief's light clothing; it was almost as if the weather was persuading him to go back inside. An occasional flash of lightning and the grumbling protest of thunder could be heard in between the howls of wind as it whipped between the buildings. The smell of wet asphalt and moist sand mingled in the damp, night air. The normally dry and cool desert night felt unusually warm and humid, a sign that the storms were not quite finished with the area yet. As he approached the hangar, nothing seemed immediately odd or suspicious; all was quiet and still as it should be. There were no night flights tonight on account of the weather. Slowing his pace, Crowbar walked into the hangar, every sense keyed to pick up the slightest oddity.

Nothing.

Nothing stirred within the peaceful hangar. The overhead lights flickered briefly, but never went completely out. Crowbar attributed it to the storm. A soft breeze had found its way into the hangar and was gently pulling on the crew chief's pants legs. Warily, the staff sergeant made his way up the center aisle, blue eyes darting back and forth, scanning, searching, seeking. Finally, he approached his captain's jet and he ran his blue eyes over every visible inch.

Nothing.

The ladder had not been disturbed and there were no dusty footprints on the wing indicating someone had hopped up to the cockpit. The jet appeared as he had left it earlier that day. Maybe Spades was seeing things. Shaking his head tiredly, Crowbar grabbed the ladder and pulled it next to the cockpit. He scaled the ladder with practiced ease, having performed this simple function every day since entering the Air Force as a crew chief. He slid the hatch open and scrutinized the cockpit, his highly trained eye looking for even one switch flipped when it ought not to be. Everything was as it should be. Except…

His forehead wrinkled in puzzlement and he leaned further into the jet, eyes focused on the radar screen. It was illuminated. Not by much, but a very faint greenish glow reflected off the edges of the console. Now that was odd. He'd have to get Scotty, the Avionics Tech, to look at that in the morning.

"Find anything, Crow?" A voice broke the solitude quite abruptly.

"Aaaahhh!" With the grace of a tame turkey perched on a clothes line, the crew chief quickly lost his balance and fell face-first into the cockpit. Tomcat burst into a giggling fit while Alexis tried to hide her face in shame.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to sneak up on you, Crow," Tomcat managed to say between snickers.

"Damn it, Tomcat! Give a man a little warning next time!" Crowbar barked angrily from the jet as he floundered around in the cockpit trying to try and right himself. He acted something like a fish caught in a hand net the way he was kicking and squirming about trying to get in the best position to crawl out of his awkward predicament.

"I said I was sorry, but I just couldn't help myself," Tomcat replied, elbowing Alexis in the ribs. "Did you find anything?"

As Crowbar finally managed to sit right-side up, he deliberated telling the girls about the oddly-lit radar screen. He thought better of it; it was probably just a minor technical glitch anyway. It was nothing to worry his pilot over. "Nope. Nothing out of the ordinary. Everything appears to be in order." He backed out of the cockpit, slid the hatch back into place and slowly made his way down the ladder. Once on the concrete, he directed his level, blue eyes on Alexis. "Tomcat says you saw someone in here. Can you elaborate for me, Spades?"

Alexis shuffled uncomfortably under her crew chief's stare. She may have been the commanding officer, but when that bird was on the ground, as it was now, Crowbar was in charge. She already felt like a fool in front of Clarissa; she really didn't want to repeat the process in front of her crew chief. But the young woman took a deep breath and repeated her story almost verbatim to the chief.

"And he was gone just like that?" Crowbar snapped his fingers.

"Yes, by the time the lightning flash ended and the lights came back on, he was gone," Alexis confirmed.

"What did he look like?" Crowbar asked, arms folded across his chest. He had his head cocked curiously to one side.

"All I can give you is a facial description, but he appeared to have dark brown hair, crew cut, wore one of the older made flight suits; it wasn't quite like the ones we wear; it had some patches, but I couldn't make them out. Ummm, he had really sharp facial features; no mustache or anything like that and…he…uh…" She began to stumble over the last part of her description.

"Eye color?" Crow prompted, twirling his hand in a circular manner.

Alexis hesitated. She bit her lip in nervous agitation. "Red," she nearly whispered.

"Red!?" Crowbar echoed, sounding slightly surprised.

"Yes! Red! I swear the guy's eyes were _red_! When he looked at me I thought I was going to spontaneously combust!"

Crowbar didn't say anything more as he chewed over the information he had been given. Something wasn't quite adding up. Apparitions in cockpits, homicidal air ratchets, mysteriously moving tools…He hadn't told Spades about the trouble his crew had been having, but he wasn't quite ready to attribute this whole shenanigan to the "other realm" just yet. Some Air Force crews were notorious for their pranks on fellow crewmen.

"OK, I tell you what, Spades. I'll keep my eyes open for this guy, if he appears again. I'll even have one of the MPs stage a watch if you like. I'm inclined to believe what you've told me, but right now it's all circumstantial. Now, I checked your jet over, we've agreed to a Code Two status, so you're still on to fly tomorrow. You think you can handle it?"

He watched his pilot's reaction carefully. He could tell that something had deeply disturbed her. Alexis was as rock solid as they come. In the air, she was as cool and collected as a bucket of ice, very little rattled her. She acted almost exactly like Scotty had earlier in the week—nervous, shifty, flighty even. He was determined to get to the bottom of this. At least Spades had Tomcat to steady her. Crowbar doubted anything short of a MOAB could rattle that redhead.

Alexis nodded her head slowly at first and then more vigorously, "Yes, sir."

"All righty then! Let's get some sleep, shall we folks. Some of us 'round here actually work for a living."

Crowbar received a few playful punches for that comment. He wrapped both arms around each of the pilot's shoulders, one on each side, and together the three made their way out of the hangar. However, Alexis couldn't help but glance one last time at her jet, mistrust and suspicion clouding her emerald eyes. The jet sat there as innocently as before, quietly waiting for the next day to begin. Reluctantly, she focused forward, trying to concentrate on one of Tomcat's lame inter-service jokes.

But had Alexis looked back for a second time, her fears might have been confirmed, for there standing at parade rest in the center of the aisle stood the very same man she had seen sitting in her cockpit. He was a tall officer, standing close to 6'4" with dark, black-brown hair, neatly shaven around the edges in an immaculate, military crew cut. He was quite a handsome representative of the human race, with finely cut features and a powerful muscular frame. He wasn't of a bulky muscular build either, but rather the lean, lithe type, a poised cobra ready to strike at the slightest provocation. His flight suit was a crisp, olive green and displayed the patches of a renowned squadron. Too bad that squadron had been disbanded almost thirty years prior. Actually, not so much disbanded as obliterated—by three of the fiercest aerial adversaries to ever carve Earth's skies.

The ghostly pilot smirked to himself as the three mortals disappeared from sight. So, what if one of the females had seen him? No one was quite ready to believe her story. It may have been her jet, but now it was his home, his future body. And he _would _have a body again. Of that much he was certain. And if a few humans got in his way? Well, he had already proven to himself he could harm them; what were a few more human deaths added to the already hundreds he had killed?

Silently, the translucent human figure slowly faded from sight, still maintaining that perfect parade-rest pose, a malicious and cruel sneer pulling at the lips. The last thing to completely disappear from sight, were two glowing red eyes floating ominously in the void. Several seconds later, they too disappeared.

* * *

The sun dawned bright and beautiful, casting the peaceful desert into a brilliant display of brilliant blues, deep purples, fiery reds and magnificent oranges. The storms of the night had passed, leaving the desert air cool and fresh. It was going to be a fantastic day to fly. But instead of feeling excited about today's events as she would normally feel, Captain Alexis O'Conner felt nothing but deep dread as the morning rays pierced her window. Ever since she had arrived back at her apartment, the young pilot had been unable to sleep. She had tossed and turned in the remaining hours of the night, visions of a red-eyed ghost haunting her mind. _That stare._ It felt as if he were seeing straight through her even as she had seen through him. But she had felt so much more. When she had told Crowbar that she felt as if she would spontaneously combust, she had not been exaggerating. That stare not only had made her feel exposed and vulnerable, but she had literally felt the malicious heat radiating from his eyes. She had wanted to run, to hide her face from such a scathing glower, but at the same time she had been unable to move, frozen in place by fear. Never had Alexis been in the presence of so much hatred and loathing. It sent a cold shiver running down her spine just to recall the feeling.

Slowly, she got out of bed and began to prepare for the day. Alexis thought she would never see the day she would be reluctant to fly. Every tug on a zipper, every lace that needed tied was performed with deliberate slowness. When she had finally dressed and prepared her satchel, Alexis confirmed she was the only one left in the apartment. Tomcat was due out on the flight line as well. They would be performing different exercises with different flight partners, but Alexis couldn't help but feel a little relieved that Tomcat was not her partner today. She loved that fiery she-cat, but sometimes her manner could be quite annoying, such as how she had reacted last night. Alexis felt there really had been no need to contact Crowbar until in the morning; she still felt a little rankled over that stunt, but she knew Tomcat was just trying to help in her own special way. With a reluctant sigh, Alexis left their apartment and locked the door. It was time to head for the hangar.

* * *

"Good morning, Captain," one of the members of her crew called cheerily. Alexis gave the subordinate a half-hearted smile in return. It sure as hell didn't feel like a good morning.

With hesitant steps, the pilot walked down the center aisle of Hangar Seven Alfa. All the aircrews were busy tending to their respective jets, milling around each piece of machinery like ants around an apple core. About that time, Alexis caught a brief glimpse of her crew chief disappearing around the tail-end of her jet. Setting her jaw stubbornly, Alexis strode the remaining distance with false-confident strides. She stopped at the nose and gave the cockpit a wary eye. Maybe she _had_ imagined it? In any event, she had a job to perform and now was not the time to allow petty worries to cloud her judgment.

"Spades! You ready? You're due on the flight line by 0700! Let's get crackin'!"

Alexis smiled to herself. Good ol' Crowbar; business as usual. She ran her required pre-flight check before approaching the ladder. It was already propped against the jet, the cockpit open and waiting. '_Here goes nothin',' _she thought to herself. Alexis adjusted her satchel and began to climb the ladder. She swung a leg over and into the opening and then slid into place. She fiddled with the buckles of the safety harness and checked all the switches and gauges. Everything was in order; everything was as it should be. Time to rock and roll.

She gave the signal to pull the chocks and kept her eye on the marshaller, waiting for the salute. She copied the all-too-familiar signal and throttled the jet up, taxiing down the tarmac to the runway. Another jet was approaching to her left, her flight partner for this morning's exercise. She groaned inwardly when she read the name below the glass—Lt. Jerry "Coldstone" Stoner. Whereas Alexis got along with almost everybody in her squadron; Coldstone was the remaining 1% that she absolutely loathed. He was below her in rank, but that only seemed to aggravate the hostility between the two of them. Coldstone despised her with a passion; why, Alexis had yet to figure out. The only good thing was he was one hell of a pilot.

"_Ready to get your ass kicked, Spades?" _her radio crackled to life with the arrogant tone of her flight partner's voice.

"_Got that backwards, don't you Butterbar?" _Alexis retorted. Really, she was sick of his attitude. What was his problem anyway?

"_I have a feeling your luck is going to run out today, _Captain_."_

Alexis didn't even dignify him with a response; it was best to let your actions do the talking for you. She shoved her hand forward and was rewarded with the almost simultaneous thrust of her engines. White-orange licks of flame leaped from the thrusters as her bird shot forward and down the runway. Coldstone was right on her left wingtip, throttle for throttle. Together the two jets screamed into the air, swirls of exhaust and dust whirlpooling in their wake.

Together they flew out and into the deep desert, wings inches from touching. As if on some hidden command, the two jets veered apart, each banking into a different direction. '_Let the fun begin,' _Alexis thought grimly, this would probably be as close to a real aerial battle as she would ever come.

She pushed the throttle forward, feeling her airspeed drop but savoring the height of the climb. She banked her bird hard to the left and then leveled out. She scanned the clear, blue sky for any tell-tell flashes of sun reflecting off of metal. Nothing.

Suddenly, one of her proximity alarms sounded; Alexis pulled the stick to the right and executed a beautiful barrel roll. She continued to roll her plane to the right and down, trying to catch a visual of her attacker. Like a streaking gray comet, she saw Coldstone rocket away from her, about 1,500 feet below her present position. '_Sneaky, son of a bitch tried to take me from below! Not today, Stoner!'_

She pushed the throttle to the limit, feeling the kick of the afterburners pushing her back into the seat. All at once, her earlier reservations disappeared, her fears dissipated and her worries ceased. A new animal took over mind, her inner predator. The only thoughts streaming through her mind was that of tracking and tagging her prey. A loud crack echoed over the desert as Alexis broke the sound barrier and pursued her quarry. The tiny dot slightly to her one o'clock was quickly taking form, two tiny pinpoints of orange in a brilliant azure sky. Alexis quickly closed the gap, drawing within a quarter of a mile of her target. She lowered her jet's velocity to below supersonic speeds and began to maneuver over to get onto Coldstone's six.

He must have detected her presence, for suddenly his jet banked hard to the left. Alexis copied the maneuver, intent on not losing him a second time. Then quite abruptly, Coldstone pulled up and disappeared into the blinding brilliance that was the morning sun. Alexis tried to pursue him, but lost the other jet to the intense glare.

"Damn it!" She cursed out loud. She had lost her advantage and to one of the oldest tricks in the book. She puzzled over her next course of action. If she went high as well, there was every possibility that Coldstone would meet her half-way. After all, he had the sun in his favor. If she stayed where she was he still had the advantage of being higher in altitude than her and the blinding sun factor. If she ducked and ran, he could easily pursue her and she would expose her six. The options didn't look promising. She cursed again, using some words that were less than becoming of a lady, but she didn't care; she wanted to win against this arrogant bastard and show him just why she was deserving of her rank.

Suddenly, the flight stick jerked itself from her hands and shot forward. Alexis didn't even have time to respond. The nose of the jet shot down into the vertical and began to plummet to the earth. Alexis felt her vision swim, the edges of which began to turn a rosy red due to the abrupt change in inertia. Vaguely, Alexis pulled back on the stick. No response. She tried again, still no response.

Her airspeed reading was cycling through numbers at an astounding rate, the altimeter was recording a descent speed she could barely comprehend; if she wasn't able to slow down and pull up soon, she would be a little charred spot on the desert floor. She pulled on the stick with all her strength, but the jet continued to plummet like a stone over the edge of a cliff face. Her vision began to fail, the dials and readings blurring within a red haze. She was beginning to red-out, a situation in which all the blood in her body was rushing to her brain due to the force of the negative _g's._

The parched earth filled what was left of her vision; the jet was still not responding. Behind her although she couldn't see at the time, Coldstone was beginning to pull out of the suicidal dive, not daring to follow the Captain's flight line.

"_Spades, you crazy idiot! Pull up! PULL UP!"_

All Alexis heard was a jumble of garbled words. Her head lolled forward as the effects of the dive began to take their toll. She attempted one last time to take control of the stick, but it refused to budge. By this point, ejection didn't occur to her; she was trapped between consciousness and unconsciousness, aware of her plight, but unable to do anything about it.

As the jet breached 1,000 feet and falling, Alexis lost total consciousness; the jet however, did not. With only hundreds of feet to spare, the Eagle leveled out and shot across the desert floor, dust and grit swirling in its wake like a mini-sandstorm. As the jet screamed feet above the deck, Alexis slowly regained her senses. At first, she was totally disoriented, but then realization began to seep into the red fog that still clouded her mind.

'_What the hell…just happened? Am I still…am I still _flying!? _Holy SHIT!! _'

Alexis's first reaction was to scream bloody murder. After all, she was currently strapped within a jet that was flying itself. But years of Air Force training dictated a separate course of action. She took several deep breaths to try and clear her mind. How in the hell was this happening? Why was it happening?

Her eyes darted down to the flight stick. It was currently managing itself, making small corrections here and there in order to maintain straight and level flight. Next her eyes darted outside to the landscape—she couldn't have been 15 feet off the deck at the least. Next, her eyes traveled over the gauges and displays on her console; there were illuminated with a brilliant green light. Normally this wouldn't have been any cause for concern, but since it was happening during the vibrant, desert morning sun, Alexis caught her breath within her mask.

"What the hell is going on here?" she said softly to herself.

Suddenly, the Heads-Up Display illuminated with the same green glow. Her eyes grew wide with fear and shock as words began to scroll across the display.

**I am the one in control. **

"Who the hell are you? What are you?" Alexis continued watching with horrid fascination.

**I control your pathetic life.**

"You're that crazy bastard I saw last night, aren't you?" she asked hesitantly.

**Wouldn't you like to know.**

Cold fear washed over Alexis's body. Tiny beads of sweat began to trickle down the back of her neck and tickle her spine. It _was_ him. It had to be.

Suddenly the radio, crackled to life and Coldstone's voice filtered over the connection. "_Spades!? What in the hell were you thinking!? What happened?!"_

Almost simultaneously, scrawling green words appeared on her HUD.

**Tell the worm anything of this and I will ensure this will be your last flight. You're only alive now because you are of use to me. Do not think I cannot survive without you. You are not irreplaceable.**

Alexis swallowed the lump in her throat before replying, "_What's wrong, Stoner? Can't take the heat?"_ To her credit, Alexis's tone was as steady as a rock, but her body quivered with terror.

"_The hell I can! But I'm not going to pull a stunt like that! You could have been killed!"_

"_Is that concern I hear in your voice?"_

"_You want concern, Captain? I'll give you concern!"_

The radio fell silent as Alexis watched the tiny blip on her radar screen draw closer. "Now what?" she said out-loud. A fleeting thought crossed her mind about how absurd it was to be talking to a jet, but her thoughts were quickly interrupted.

**He is of little consequence to me.**

Before Alexis could fully comprehend that statement, the jet banked hard to the left and shot into the sky. The afterburners were screaming with living fire as the Eagle rocketed back into the azure depths. Suddenly the tiny blip on her radar screen became a full-fledged jet directly in her flight line. Once again, Alexis' eyes widened to the size of jade saucers as Coldstone's jet grew larger and larger with every passing millisecond. She closed her eyes not wanting to see the imminent collision.

At the last possible moment, Alexis's jet banked hard to the right, looped up into the air then rotated back around to come around behind on Stoner's six—a perfect Immelman turn. The next thing she knew, she heard Stoner cursing profusely over their radio link. She didn't catch all of what he had to say and some inner voice told her she probably didn't want to, but the jist went something along the lines of crazy female pilots, suicidal stunt maneuvers on a training-X, and a court marshal. She blanched on that last comment. Her on-flight cameras would surely tell the tale.

With Stoner firmly licked, the two jets turned and began to head back to base, albeit Alexis was still just a passenger.

"What in the hell was that? You could have killed us both…er…rather one of us at least!"

**Foolish human! You have no idea with whom you are dealing with! This is but a petty child's game compared to what I am truly capable of!**

"Just _who _are you? That's all I ask. And why haunt _me?"_

**Know only that I am the keeper of your pathetic existence. I will fly back to the base and my threat still stands. Whisper a word of anything to anyone, even in confidence, and I will ensure your termination will be excruciating. **

Alexis nodded her head quickly. She didn't know how her jet would find out if she talked to anyone, but that same little voice told her she didn't want to find out. As they flew in silence back to Caldwell, she couldn't help but wonder what in the hell she had gotten herself into.

* * *

**A/N: Just a little terminology help. **

**MOAB-Mother of All Bombs or Massive Ordinance Air Burst Bomb; a really big bomb that makes a really big BOOM!**

**Deck-In short, ground level. **

**One o'clock, six o'clock etc.: positions relative to hands on a clock. Someone "on your six" means someone directly behind you. One o'clock would be forward and slightly to your right.**

**(You can tell I play way too much Ace Combat! :)**


	4. Wrath of the Wraith

**A/N: Thanks guys for all your kicka** reviews! Ya'll rock! So, here's the next chapter. To get the best effect, I recommend turning out all the lights, turn off your TV, and make sure it's the dead of night before reading! Oh, and if you have any spooky music, that would be good too! Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think.**

**Chapter 4: Wrath of the Wraith**

Alexis landed the jet as she had so many hundred times before, except that she really wasn't the one landing the jet this go-around. Usually she was reluctant to leave the confines of the cockpit after a flight; this time, she couldn't wait to pop the hatch and escape this seemingly demonic piece of machinery. As the jet rolled to a smooth stop, Alexis attempted to open the cockpit. It wouldn't budge. She looked out the glass and saw several of her crew rushing to help her down.

"Please, would you let me out now?" she asked quietly, her voice quavering slightly.

A sharp flash on her radar screen drew her eye. She leaned over and watched as a single word materialized across the screen.

"**Remember."**

She swallowed and nodded her head. "How could I forget," she mumbled, relief flooding over her body as the hatch slid open. With shaking steps, Alexis climbed out of the jet and allowed Crowbar to help her to the tarmac.

"Well, Captain, how'd she fly for you?" Crowbar greeted her cheerily as Alexis's feet touched down on the concrete. He failed to notice the especially pained expression on her features as he voiced the one question she was dreading.

"Uh, um, well Crow, I have to say that she can almost fly herself," Alexis replied with false cheer.

"Great! Great! Good to hear! We'll see how things go for the rest of the month before we bump you back up to Code One status."

"Uh, sounds great Crow. Say if you don't mind, I really need to get to the flight room and debrief. I'll catch up with you later." With that Alexis quickly trotted off, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder as she went.

"Well, I'll be damned," Crowbar mumbled under his breath, scratching his head in puzzlement.

"What's wrong Crow?" McFarland asked, walking up behind the crew chief.

"Huh? Oh, nothing Scotty. I guess Spades really wanted to get her debrief done. Let's get this bird put up and give it a shakedown."

"Yes sir."

Crowbar cast one last puzzled look at his retreating captain before turning his attention back on the jet and his crew.

* * *

For Alexis her post-flight debrief couldn't have finished quicker. She felt jumpy and exceptionally nervous. When people walked up behind her or spoke unexpectedly she would jump slightly as if shocked. At this point she wanted only to retreat to the safe confines of her room and bury herself in a good book.

She entered the mess hall and retrieved a tray for dinner, settling herself in one of the far corners of the large chow hall. Her position allowed her a complete, unobstructed view of the entire room with no fear of anyone sneaking up behind her. Taking a deep breath, she began eat her food, allowing her taxed body to relax for the first time in several hours. A slight darkening over her tray made her look up warily. It was Coldstone Stoner.

"Mind if I sit down, Captain?" he asked a slight sneer in his voice.

"Look Coldstone, if you came to pick a fight with me about what happened earlier, I'm not interested," she said, putting her fork down with slightly more force than necessary. The lieutenant ignored her heated warning and took a seat directly across from her. He looked up and met her cold, jade-colored eyes.

"I didn't come here to fight. Something's up with you, Spades. You're not acting like yourself," he began, for once genuine concern in his voice.

"What's it matter to you?" she snapped.

"Hell, I don't know? Maybe it's because you're in my squadron? You were my wingmate? Any of this ringing a bell with you?"

"You never struck me as the caring type, Coldstone. Why the change in heart?" she asked, taking a bite from her baked potato. He ignored answering her question and jumped straight into another statement.

"You weren't flying like you normally do, Spades. You're not the type to pull stunts like that and you're definitely not the type to go around acting as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Now would you mind telling me what in the hell is bothering you?"

His colorful simile drew a small smile. "I appreciate your concern, _lieutenant_, but I don't take orders from you." Abruptly, Alexis stood and took her tray with her, leaving Coldstone alone at the table. She walked over to a trashcan, deposited her meal and immediately left the mess hall.

Coldstone rested his elbows on either side of the tray and ran his hands irritably through his spiky, sandy-colored hair. After several seconds, he slammed one palm down on the table and cursed under his breath. Neither he nor Alexis saw the handsome, dark-haired pilot across the room get up and follow her outside.

After leaving the mess hall, Alexis made her way quickly to her apartment. Never had the door to her sanctuary looked more inviting. She unlocked the door, let herself inside, and then leaned against the door as if that would prevent all the problems of the world from entering. She sighed heavily and laid her head back against the door and slowly sank to the floor. She sat for several long minutes with her head on her knees, replaying the events of the day. Did it really happen? Had she really been threatened by a malevolent spirit? Alexis gave another shuddering sigh before struggling to her feet. She had to have imagined it; she had to. Then another thought crossed her mind—the in-flight camera. All jets were outfitted with one; they helped with the post-flight debriefings as well as provided hard evidence of the pilot's flight. As soon as her flight commander saw the footage from her jet or even from Coldstone's, her tail would be fried. In all honesty what did she have to lose telling Crowbar what really happened? She would most certainly be reprimanded for her actions today, ghost or no ghost. Besides, how in the hell would that spook know if she told anyone anyway? It was trapped within her jet and after today, it wasn't as if she would be flying anytime soon. What was the worst a ghost could do? She had never heard of one killing a living person.

Slowly but steadily, her resolve was returning. A small simmering spark of rebellion was beginning to light in her spirit. Her emerald eyes glanced over to the landline. She pressed her lips into a thin line and strode toward the phone. Something would be done; she would not allow her decisions to be ruled by some paranormal freak of nature, ghost be damned! She cradled the receiver and quickly dialed Crowbar's number. It was a little after 1900 hours; he should be home by now. She heard the line connect and the familiar ringing indicating her call was going through. After four rings, Alexis heard a click as someone picked up the phone.

"Hello?" she said softly, trying to determine if it was the Mr. or the Mrs. Crowbar who had picked up the phone. "Hel-lo, is anyone there? Hello?"

Suddenly a raspy, somewhat high-pitched laugh sounded on the other end. It most definitely wasn't Crowbar or his wife. "Thought you could be smart, didn't you?" the voice mocked.

"Who the hell is this?" Alexis demanded, pulling the phone away from her ear and staring at it as if it were a writhing snake in her hands. "Where's Crowbar?"

"Why Alexis O'Conner, I'm disappointed in you. Surely you have not forgotten our agreement so readily? Remember?"

She nearly dropped the receiver as that very familiar word flashed across her memory. The radar screen. It couldn't be!? But how!? It or he, for it sounded like a he, was in the jet! How in the hell…!?

"How!?" she whispered, the hair rising on the back of neck. She could feel the blood draining from her features. There was another lifeless chuckle on the other line.

"You would be surprised what you can accomplish when you're dead!" the voice hissed poisonously. "Now then, _do not_ try and deceive me again, Alexis O'Conner. This is your last and final warning. Try anything again and you will find horrible things happening not only to yourself, but your friends and allies as well. You wouldn't want their blood on your hands, now would you?"

She shook her head as if he could see her. Her eyes darted around the room feverishly, searching for any sign of possible intrusion. "No," she whispered, "Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you?" she whispered hoarsely into the phone, cold fear making her voice quake.

"You exist," came the bitter reply. "I'm watching you, Alexis O'Conner and I'm waiting; when the time is right I will contact you again. Remember our deal or blood will be spilt!"

_Click._

She dropped the phone as if it were the heated end of a branding iron. Tears began to stream down her face. All her previous resolve evaporated like dry ice in a tanning bed. An overwhelming sense of helplessness washed over her body as Alexis stumbled into the bedroom and began to weep into her pillow. Getting help was out of the picture. Somehow, someway this thing knew. Knew what she was doing, or at least what she was going to do. Over and over that raspy voice replayed in her mind—the threats, the coldness, the detachment. Everything one would expect in a ghostly voice from the other side. She shivered at the thought. What was she going to do? What could she do? The phone call was proof that if she revealed its presence, it would know and Alexis didn't even want to imagine what would happen if it found out she tried to break the agreement again.

Suddenly an idea came to her. What if she went to it? What if she confronted this thing head on? Would it stop the harassment? Just the thought of approaching her jet, alone, in the hangar again made her spine tingle uncomfortably, but it just might be the only way to make this whole thing stop. On one hand, she didn't want to push her luck with this…ghost, but on the other hand she really didn't want to wait around to find out what its plans were. If she were going to be stuck with it, she wanted to know exactly who or what she was dealing with, before anyone got hurt.

Slowly peeling herself off the bed, Alexis walked into the bathroom and splashed her face with cold, running water. She patted her face dry with a towel, grabbed her keys and then exited the room. She hoped she wouldn't meet Tomcat on her way out; her roommate would most definitely demand an explanation, one Alexis was not particularly willing to give. Fortunately, however lady luck was with her, but it remained to be seen if she were holding hands with the devil.

Darkness was beginning to settle over the desert and the sun bathed everything in sight with a beautiful golden-brown glow. It was a stunning sight to behold. But unfortunately, the young captain was too preoccupied with her mission to take notice. Alexis approached the hangar slowly and reluctantly. Her eyes were wide with worry and every nerve felt as if it were on a hair-trigger. No one was in the hangar bay. Well, that could be good; at least she didn't have to worry about looking like an idiot. On the other hand, if things went south, there would be no witnesses to her most assuredly, outlandish story. She felt a strange sense of déjà vu as her eyes alit on each and every jet chocked within the building. She walked down the center aisle, her booted footsteps echoed loudly in the confines of the hangar. Much sooner than she wanted, Alexis found herself facing the haunted jet. It sat there innocently enough, engines silent, cockpit lights off, the soft glow from the hangar lights giving the jet an almost angelic air. She knew better.

Alexis set her jaw and positioned herself just to the right of the nose, allowing her to see the cockpit and, if necessary, the ability to jump to safety. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and then opened them again, slowly releasing her breath in a shaky effort to settle the butterflies within her stomach. Didn't they have people that got paid to do this type of thing?

"I want to talk to you," she began, directing her voice to the large metal bird.

Silence.

"Look, I know you're there…or at least, you were there. So, what's the deal?"

Silence.

_I should have known. Come to talk with a ghost and I get the silent treatment. Big surprise._ "Listen you, er…whatever or whoever you are, I don't know why you're doing this and frankly I don't give a damn, but I _will not_ be intimidated by you! What exactly is your problem anyway? I mean, why haunt _me_? What have I ever done to you? Hell, I don't even know you! So, what's the deal? Why all the threats and intimidation shit, huh?"

Silence.

"Urrrrrgggghhh! You know! Forget it! I can't believe I'm out here talking to a jet anyway. If you even exist, you're just a ghost and ghosts can't seriously hurt people anyway, so go on! Hit me with your best shot!"

Alexis whirled on her heel and stormed out of the hangar, feeling strangely better about having vented some of her frustrations, even if she was yelling at a supposedly inanimate object. Maybe now that she had shown this demon she wasn't afraid, it would leave her and everyone else around her alone.

But little did Alexis realize she had just thrown gasoline on an already blazing inferno. The cockpit lights within her jet briefly illuminated and bathed the entire interior with a devilish, green glow. By this time, Alexis was already a good distance away from the hangar or otherwise she would have heard the manic, cackling, disembodied laughter echoing within the metal construct.

* * *

Several days passed in an uneventful haze and Alexis was beginning to feel that she had finally beaten her ethereal enemy. She had flown her jet at least twice more and she had maintained complete control of all her avionics.

Even Crowbar and his crew noticed the distinct lack of unexplained events. At first the crew was extremely edgy, believing that something was building to a head and a major incident would occur, but as the days ticked by and nothing mischievous happened, everyone was beginning to relax and settle back into an old groove. It was just as Starscream wanted it.

A1C Scotty McFarland was busying himself with checking the cockpit's interior circuitry. He absolutely loved his job, which was being an Avionics Technician. Ever since he was a boy he had a fascination with two things: airplanes and electricity. So, when he graduated high school it seemed a natural transition to put the two loves of his life together and join the Air Force as an Avionics Tech. It was a challenging occupation and one that required his utmost attention.

Scotty ducked his head and began to fiddle with the snake's nest of wiring that hung loosely under the jet's console. His slender fingers were carefully tracing a yellow wire, his intent to find its terminus and ensure that there was no fraying or chafing of the bright, protective covering. With his bright, redhead tucked under the console, McFarland failed to notice the hatch beginning to slide back over the cockpit. Soundlessly it slid into position until with a faint _click_, it locked into place.

Scotty banged his head on the bottom of the console as he tried to see what had caused that mysterious _click_. He immediately took notice of the closed hatch and snorted to himself. Those guys! They were always playing tricks on him! He tried the latch to unlock the cockpit, but it wouldn't budge.

"OK guys! You can let me out now! A little help would be appreciated!" he shouted loudly, his voice slightly muffled by the glass. Two other techs were walking by and noticed Scotty tapping on the glass. They laughed to each other and pointed at Scotty tapping from within the cockpit.

"You can let yourself out, McFarland! You're not that big of a dunce!" one called to him.

"I can't. The latch is jammed. Give me a hand would ya!?"

"You were the one dumb enough to lock yourself in; get yourself out!" the tech turned to his partner and was beginning to walk away.

Suddenly he heard a loud slapping sound coming from Scotty's jet; he looked over his shoulder to see the young redhead banging wildly on the glass. His eyes were bulged and if the tech didn't know any better he would have guessed that Scotty was faking asphyxiation and faking it rather well, he might add. He looked to his partner. "Do you think he's faking?"

The partner glanced back at the cockpit. He immediately took in the bulging eyes, the rapidly changing color of the face and the bulging veins on the boy's forehead. "If he is he's doing a damn good job!" The second tech rushed to the jet, his friend hot on his heels.

"How in the hell…!?" the first tech exclaimed. "What the devil is going on here!? Is that cockpit…depressurizing!?"

"It sure as hell is! Call Crow NOW! You there!" the second tech hollered to another specialist. "Help me! We've got a man trapped in here; he's suffocating!"

The third tech immediately dropped what he was doing and rushed to the jet. Already a steady crowd of onlookers and helpers were beginning to crowd around the plane. Their babbling voices filled with concern and confusion. Crowbar shoved his way through the crowd and all but leaped onto the wing, the two techs helping him to climb up. Together the three of them tried to shove the cockpit glass back into place, but it held fast. Inside Crowbar watched the panicked expression of Scotty McFarland as he feebly beat on the glass, his strength dwindling with the oxygen supply.

"This isn't working! I need everyman available to get an air ratchet NOW! We're taking the glass off!" Crowbar shouted as techs scattered everywhere to grab the required tools. "Hang with me Scotty! Damn it, man, stay with me!" Crow urged his young apprentice. The crew chief watched in horror as the boy's eyes finally lolled to the back of his head, his neck and body going limp as he slumped over the pilot's chair. "SCOTTY, damn it, son! Don't you die on my watch, you hear me! DON'T DIE ON ME NOW!" Crowbar slammed his fist against the impervious glass as if his anger would be enough to shatter it.

Abruptly, the hatch popped open with a furious hiss as air rushed in to fill the vacuum. Crowbar reached in as quickly as possible and dragged the unconscious boy from the cockpit. He along with the first two techs gently handed his limp body down off the jet and into several waiting arms down below. Within minutes, Scotty was strapped to a stretcher, wheeled into a military ambulance and driven off to the on-base hospital. Everyone within Hangar Seven Alfa stood dumbstruck as the magnitude of the event struck home. Only Crowbar seemed to gather his wits about him as he turned and barked at the two techs who had first realized the problem.

"You two! In my office now. I want to know exactly what happened, understood!?"

"Yes, sir!" the two techs chorused and quickly followed the crew chief out of the hangar. The shock was beginning to wear off and all the maintenance personnel were slowly beginning to resume their jobs, although many stood around and talked in hushed whisperings. This type of accident had never occurred before and it had many of them stirred up like a nest full of hornets. However, no one felt the magnitude of what had just happened more than Capt. Alexis. She had just entered the hangar to speak with Crowbar when she saw all the commotion centered around _her_ jet. With wide, terror-stricken eyes she watched numbly as Scotty was dragged from the cockpit and handed down to the waiting paramedics. She felt her heart freeze within her chest and the blood in her veins turn into ice water.

So he had injured someone. This evil, malignant spirit hadn't left after all. Instead it had fulfilled its threat and now one man was seriously injured, maybe even killed and all because of her. It was all her fault. She shouldn't have tried to provoke it; she should have listened! And now because of her stupidity, sweet, innocent Scott McFarland was strapped to a stretcher fighting for his life—one of her crew, her teammate, her subordinate.

A sudden wave of nausea swept over her body and assaulted her senses. Wheeling wildly, Alexis made a break for the restroom and barely arrived in time to see her breakfast revisited. She hurled and gagged, the nausea threatening to overwhelm her weakened body. She gripped the ceramic bowl as if her life depended on it, her knuckles white and strained. Finally, she stopped vomiting, succumbing every few seconds to the dry heaves as her stomach tried to empty itself when there was nothing left to empty. With bleary, tear-stained eyes, the captain groped for the toilet tissue and wiped the spittle from her lips. She sat in the floor of the bathroom stall, trying to steady her nerves and her stomach. Over and over again, the horrific scene in the hangar replayed in her mind's eye. She couldn't stop seeing Scotty's body strapped to the stretcher—pale, lifeless. She may have been a combat pilot, but Alexis had never seen combat. Death was relatively new to her and knowing that she might ultimately be the cause of one sickened her. Shakily and using the stall walls for support, Alexis stood to her feet. Almost immediately her cell phone shrilled, causing the young woman to jump, startled.

With shaking hands, she reached into her pocket and withdrew the phone. It was a text message; number unidentified. With trembling fingers she flipped the phone open and read the text. Her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes scrolled across the digital words.

"**I told you so. Hangar 7A tonight. 2300 hours.**

**DO NOT DISOBEY.**

Numbly, she placed the phone back into her pocket and left the bathroom. There was no doubt now. She was a slave to the devil's bidding.

* * *

When Tomcat had found out what happened to McFarland, she had hit Alexis with a barrage of questions and concerns. It was almost too much for Alexis to take, but she endured knowing she would have to face a similar set of questions from the safety officer and her flight commander. Fearful to breathe another word about her haunting problem, Alexis pleaded ignorance for Tomcat's benefit as much as her own. Finally, her friend's impromptu interrogation ceased and Tomcat decided that rest and sleep would be more fulfilling than questions or answers. Alexis had never felt more relieved.

She donned a light-weight running jacket, sneakers and her keys before slipping out the door undetected; it was exactly 2250. She quickly made her way to the hangar, dread and fear threatening to force her to make another pit stop at the bathroom before continuing. She approached the gaping opening of the building, fear constricting her throat and making it difficult to breath.

Nary a breeze stirred; hardly a mouse skittered. It was as silent and quiet within the hangar as a graveyard. Alexis pulled her jacket close before entering the building even though there wasn't so much as breeze to give her goosebumbs. She walked with halting steps down the center aisle, her emerald eyes darting fervently from side to side. Even though nothing stirred within the hangar, she could feel an ominous presence within, pressing down and around her like a massive weight. She felt claustrophobic and just a little nauseated, but this was something she couldn't back out of, not now.

"He-hello?" she called. Her jet was chocked just where it was earlier today, just as if nothing had ever occurred. "I-I'm here! Now what do you want?"

Silence. Off in the distance Alexis heard a sign creak mourningly. Not two seconds later, a shrill scream echoed over the desert as a coyote found its late night meal. Once again Alexis felt the hairs on the back of neck prickle; she knew she was being watched but it was impossible to tell from which direction.

Suddenly she heard a very familiar, raspy chuckle resonate within the hangar. She whirled around trying to pinpoint its location, but the laugh seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It grew in volume and in madness until Alexis thought her ears would begin to bleed. She clasped her hands to her head in a pitiful attempt to stifle the evil laughter.

Finally it died down until only a sniggering chortle could be heard. Alexis unclamped her ears and spoke to the screechy, disembodied voice, "I'm here now; what in the hell do you want from me?"

"How does it feel Alexis O'Conner? How does it feel to have the blood of another on your hands?" the voice asked, ignoring her question.

She remained silent; she didn't know what to say. Horrible guilt still lay on her chest like a lead weight.

The voice chuckled once more. "I thought so. So weak and pathetic, yet you call yourself a soldier. Disgusting."

"I did not come here to be mocked; you've made your point and now you have my attention. What do you want?" she asked once again, resignation and fear plainly evident in her voice, despite the strong words.

The voice did not respond and Alexis was beginning to grow impatient, but fear kept her rooted to the spot as she waited for the voice to speak once more. When it was not forthcoming, she posed another question. "Can I least know who you are…please? I-I just don't want anyone else getting hurt."

Still nothing happened and Alexis felt that this pointless conversation was over. She took one last, searching look around and began to back out of the hangar. She had taken no more than five steps when it felt as if she had passed through a curtain of ice cold air. She shivered involuntarily and paused trying to figure out where the blistering cold air had come from. Unable to determine its origin, Alexis turned and walked smack into a solid body directly behind her.

Blistering red eyes met her terrified green ones for the second time in that haunted hangar. She felt a scream beginning to build in her throat, but an icy cold hand as white as the driven snow clasped firmly across her mouth. She struggled violently, kicking and elbowing the mass behind her with little effect; her elbows and feet were passing straight through the entity. She tried to scream, but her sounds were muffled by the hand. Several moments later, she fainted.


	5. Spectral Secrets

**A/N: And the plot thickens. So now, we learn exactly what Starscream is up to and maybe, just maybe…Coldstone is not as big of an ass as everyone thinks he is. Let me know what ya think!**

**Chapter 5: Spectral Secrets**

"Uuugggghhh," Alexis groaned weakly as consciousness slowly washed over her. She raised her hand to her head and gentle messaged her temples. "What in the hell happened?" she asked no one in particular.

A raspy voice from out of nowhere answered her query. "You lost consciousness due to an overload of emotional stress on your systems—in short, you fainted."

She froze as the hoarse, whispery voice faded into silence. Her emerald eyes widened and she pressed her back against a solid, if uncomfortable object. _Wait a minute. _She turned her head slightly and saw what exactly her back was leaning against. The nose gear of a jet. Her breath caught within her throat. _How did I get here?_ Her eyes darted back forward and she squirmed uncomfortably against her rest.

"Wh-Where are you?" she asked hesitantly, eyes searching the area of the hangar. She faintly remembered the events prior to her spell, but they sent chilling tremors down her spine and goosebumbs trailing down her arms.

At first nothing happened and Alexis was preparing to voice her question again when she heard a very soft _click_. Her head whirled around trying to catch the culprit of the noise, but there was nothing there. She slowly turned her head back forward and nearly leaped from her skin in fright.

"Aaaahhh!" she shouted briefly, banging the back of her head against the landing strut. She tenderly reached a hand to the back of her of her scalp and fingered the bruised area. Then she raised frightened eyes to behold the crouching figure before her.

Smoldering eyes the color of the deepest red wines, bored into her countenance. It almost felt as if he were staring straight into her soul, as if he were trying to set her afire from within. She cringed under his intense gaze. The figure before her appeared to be close to her own age, with dark, short cropped hair and dare she say a deceptively handsome visage. Even crouched before her inches from her face, she could tell he was a large man or rather, used to be a large man. She could clearly see the landing gear of the next jet straight through the entity. Her eyes drifted across the patching on his flight suit and she withheld a silent gasp. Those patches…

"Wh-What do you want from me?" she almost whispered, finally gaining the courage to meet his gaze.

His lips curved ever so slightly. His eyes narrowed and Alexis could have sworn she saw a flash of amusement within those garnet depths. "What could I possibly want from a miserable being like you?" his husky voice laden with narcissism.

"Well…obviously you want something. What is it?" Alexis countered, her eyes still fixated on his.

He chuckled softly, a dangerous whisper of sound that caused her to shiver involuntarily. This…this _thing_ had already injured one person. What was there to keep him from hurting her?

"Your obedience."

Her eyes widened and briefly, pride overtook fear within her mind. "Do I look like some kind of dog to you?"

This time his eyes flared like an oxygen-deprived fire, turning from a deep maroon to a raging orange before finally settling into blistering crimson. "No, you don't. You're nothing more than a germ to me. A useful germ, but a germ nonetheless," he hissed venomously. He savored the sweet look of fear that replaced her brief outburst of bravery. It pleased him deeply that even though he was only a shadow of his former, glorious self, he could still inculcate great trepidation in his victims; it was one of the few sweet nectars he could indulge himself with. He continued. "Now that you've seen what I'm capable of, do you not agree it would be most unwise of you to _not_ obey?"

She nodded her head meekly.

His smirk broadened. "Good. Now listen up, human, for I _will not_ repeat myself. From this moment on, I am the one in control, of your machine and of your life. You will not even think of disobeying me, for if you do, I will not be so lenient in reprimand next time." Suddenly his smirk vanished. "Someone. Will. Die. Your job is simple—just do as I command, when I command it and no one _else_ will suffer a life-altering experience, so to speak. Am I clear?"

Alexis nodded her head once more, her mouth set in a grim line.

"Good," he whispered. Then the ghost reached out a pale, translucent hand towards her face. Alexis cringed back as far as she could and even yanked her head away from the ghostly appendage, but to no avail. The hand struck like a coiled viper, its ashen translucence suddenly turning solid against her flesh as he gripped her chin in an icy, vice-like grip. His touch was so cold, Alexis could feel the numbness setting in along her jawline, as if someone were holding an ice pack to her chin. She struggled briefly, before realizing it was a futile effort. He forced her to look at him. "Tell me, O'Conner, how does it feel to be mortal? How does it feel to be able to touch something and sample its texture? Or to feel the wind as it passes you by?"

Alexis jerked her chin free with a solid yank, although deep down she felt that this being had let her get away with it; it only added insult to injury. "I don't know," she replied flatly, her green eyes flashing with rebellion. "How does it feel being _dead_?" she spat bitterly.

An inhuman snarl escaped his lips and he lunged at her. Alexis threw up her forearms to block the attack, but it never came. She lowered her guard just a fraction and saw that the entity was staring back down the hangar behind her. He quickly turned his head back to her, crimson eyes flashing madly, but then oddly enough he smirked. "This isn't over, fleshling. Expect another visit real soon." He then quickly faded into nothingness as Alexis's ears quickly picked up the sound of human voices.

Booted footsteps made their way down the center aisle growing louder and closer with each stride. Alexis hurriedly shuffled out from under her jet and stumbled into the aisle way, nearly bowling over Scorch in the process.

"Spades! What in the blazes are you doing out here this time of night?" Scorch asked, concern evident in his brown eyes. He helped Alexis regain her footing and gave her a careful once-over. Other than appearing extremely disheveled, his squadronmate appeared fine.

"Oh! Uh, I was uh, just trying to clear my head, that's all," she replied quickly, casting a wary glance back at her jet. "You know, all that with Scotty…it kinda shook me up a bit. And you? What are you doing out here?"

"Night mission. We just got back and decided to take a short cut through the hangar," Scotty replied.

Do you know how Scotty's doing?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Last I heard he was in stable condition, but the poor guy's in a coma. They don't know when he'll come out of it." Alexis turned to see who Scorch's companion was. She suppressed a grimace; it was none other than Coldstone.

"No idea whatsoever?" she asked, ignoring the arrogant pilot, genuine concern in her voice. A tiny pang of guilt assailed her conscience for using Scotty's health as her scapegoat, but she truly did want to know how the avionics tech was faring.

Coldstone shrugged. "Doctors say it could be tomorrow or it could be years from now. There's really no way of knowing for sure." He gave her a measured look. "I'd think after what happened, you'd be scared to death to come near your jet for a while."

Alexis crossed her arms. "What makes you think I'd be scared, Coldstone?"

He shrugged his shoulders again, a mischievous light in his green eyes. "Rumor has it your jet is haunted. All the techs are freaked out what with wrenches flying off the wingtips, hatches opening and closing and then Scotty's incident earlier today…all the maintenance personnel are more than a little spooked." He narrowed his eyes at her, studying her reaction. "And…you started acting weird just when all of this started going down. Now am I right or am I right?" he finished smugly. It wasn't lost on him that Alexis had immediately tried to change the subject when questioned about her presence in the hangar. In fact it only fueled his suspicions that something was deeply off with his fellow pilot.

She sauntered up to him, emerald eyes narrowed into jade slits. "No, you're not right. What you are is an asshole! Now would you kindly please _leave me the hell alone!"_

With that she turned on her heel and stormed out of the hangar, chocolate-colored hair fanning out from behind her. Coldstone smirked at Scorch, who had merely watched the whole exchange with a placid eye.

"So tell me 'Stone, do you enjoying pissing off all women, or just that one in particular?" he asked nonchalantly as Alexis's form quickly disappeared around the corner. They began to walk down the hangar, following in her path at a more leisurely pace.

"What? Don't you think I'm right?" Coldstone defended himself. He turned and pointed at Alexis's jet. "Ever since that thing started acting creepy, she's been acting jumpy. Something's not adding up. I can understand one or two techs babbling about misplaced tools or loose hatches, but when a whole hangar witnesses a cockpit _depressurize_ on the ground, it makes a man a might suspicious. She knows something, Scorch. Something's got her majorly spooked and I'm gonna find out what it is, one way or another."

"Since when did you even care? Last I checked you both hated each other, quite verbally if I remember correctly."

Coldstone didn't answer at first; he continued to focus his gaze in the direction Alexis had disappeared. "I don't know, man," he finally replied and then turned his head and looked at Scorch. "I don't know. We've flown with each other for what? Two years now? Yeah, I thought she was an arrogant bitch at first, but hey, she thought I was an arrogant bastard; we were even," he shrugged his shoulders, "but after our last exercise, it scared me. I thought for sure she would get court-marshaled for those stunts she pulled, but when they pulled the tapes, there was nothing on hers or mine. It was like it never happened! But I saw it, I remember it! I've only ever seen that kind of flying in two places: stunt shows and…" he trailed off, suddenly unwilling to finish his sentence. "Spades is good but she's not that good."

Scorch threw him a concerned look. "What was the other place?" There was a long period of silence before Coldstone answered. By this time they were well out off the hangar and nearly to their barracks.

"Decepticons."

"Decepti-what?"

"Decepticons!" Coldstone repeated harshly. "You mean to tell me you haven't heard of those bastards!? What kind of history lessons are they teaching these days!?"

"Well, uh, I mean I have heard of them, but I don't really know what they are. I always thought they were an urban legend," Scorch admitted.

Coldstone snorted. "Huh! I wish! They were the meanest sons of bitches to ever come to this planet, that's what they were."

"You mean they were aliens? Like actual aliens?"

"Yeah, they were, but they were a far cry from the little, green men everyone else is hung up on. As the story goes they crash landed here millions of years ago, but had only reawakened 30 years prior. They wanted to destroy our planet and more or less sap it dry of energy. They were like robots, huge, giant robots that could take on the form of our vehicles and planes. Back then you never really knew what you were dealing with until it was too late. But there were some good robots too, the Autobots as they were called. They actually formed an alliance with our government to help get rid of the Cons. Eventually, it did happen but it took many years, a lot of lives, and one kick-ass, knock-down, drag-out fight here on Earth to make it happen."

"Damn! I didn't know all that. I thought those stories were make-believe, like Sasquatch and the like."

Coldstone laughed cruelly. "Hardly, Scorch, my friend. Decepticons would make Sasquatch look like a midget in a tutu. And if you ever tangled with one, well, let's just say you had better had your will already wrote."

"That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"So how do you know all this and what exactly does this have to do with Spades?" Scorch challenged. He watched as a pained expression flicked across his friend's face, just before Coldstone's visage became unreadable. He turned and looked at Scorch and placed his hand on the other pilot's shoulder.

"Because…my…my Dad was killed by one," he said quietly. He looked Scorch in the eyes. "It's why I became a pilot; he was one too, and if those bastards ever come back, I'm gonna give them what they deserve. And all the crazy, weird shit that's been happening lately around that jet has made me awfully suspicious, but there's no way to prove whether it is or it isn't and I don't want Alexis to get hurt…or worse."

He gave Scorch a soft slap on the shoulder, before turning and disappearing into his sleeping quarters.

* * *

Back in the hangar, it was taking all of Starscream's ethereal, if nonexistent self-restraint to not tear the place apart rivet by rivet. Had he been mortal and had a proper body, mass destruction on a grand scale would have probably already occurred. Like a caged leopard, he paced the center aisle of the hangar in his human shape; his footsteps made no sound, and had anyone been around to see, they could have easily seen straight through his body as if he were a projection. Forcing solidity took much energy and he had yet to master its more enduring properties.

The human female was quickly exhausting his patience. She had seemed compliant enough at first, rightfully terrified of what her "sentient" jet could do to her. But there were still little sparks of rebellion flaring up here and there. Such as when she confronted him in the hangar after his telephone call, and now just a few moments before, when he was so rudely interrupted by more of those human pests. He sensed that she would obey him; she didn't want anyone else to be injured on her account, but that didn't mean she was completely subservient to his will—and therein laid the problem. He wanted complete domination of her body _and_ mind and for a mere human to resist his will was almost maddening.

He snarled in frustration. What else could he do to her? To weaken her? To snap her spirit like the bones of so many before he lost his mortality? He paused his pacing in retrospect. Her behavior was indeed infuriatingly puzzling. On one level she was his puppet to command, his tool that would help him return to his former glory and regain what was rightfully his. She would be his shield, a cover to keep other humans from discovering the dark, evil malevolence that was slowly rebirthing directly under their olfactory sensors.

Even now as he paced, microscopic nanites were busily at work converting the plane's systems, ever so slowly transforming the terrestrial shell into a usable body. Galvatron may have destroyed his frame, but nothing could destroy his spark or the millions of vorns worth of knowledge he had collected over his existence, of that nanite production and programming. It had taken much effort, trial and error on his part, but he had finally developed a working set of nanites to begin the reconfiguration. Earth materials were so feeble! It was only a matter of time now.

Alexis, being the pilot, would be the only human able to detect the change occurring within her craft. Starscream knew the capabilities of the aircraft would increase over time and he had no intention of allowing her to notify her chief mechanic of the changes, although primitive human technology would be hard pressed to pinpoint them. Also being human, he doubted her abilities to control the jet over time and he would be damned to the Pit before allowing a human to potentially destroy his work. He had invested too much time, energy and effort just to make it this far only to have an insect crash because she couldn't control her aircraft.

His thoughts strayed again to the female pilot. She infuriated him; no doubt there. But where did these bouts of rebellion stem from? How could she display quaking fear one moment and then somehow be able to subtly defy him another? He paused in his pacing once more. A deep, soft chuckle rose from his chest and through his lips. Bah! No matter. As long as she obeyed his commands like a good little fleshling, he could handle her little fits of temper. It would be a challenge and he liked challenges—for he, Starscream, always dominated the competition, human or otherwise.

* * *

Alexis returned to her room to find an agitated Tomcat stalking around the small apartment. As she closed the door, Alexis felt Tomcat grab her by the shoulders and turn her around. "Spades! What the hell is going on with you!? This makes twice now! Can you please tell me what's going on?" Tomcat beseeched her friend.

Alexis sighed heavily and brushed Tomcat's hand from her shoulder. She said nothing as she crossed the room and took a seat on the couch. Tomcat followed and sat down next to her.

"Alexis?"

She knew Clarissa was serious now. The two friends only ever used each other's given names when absolutely necessary or in grave circumstances such as these. She turned her head and met Tomcat's concerned eyes and then shook her head.

"Alexis? Please, you can tell me. What's wrong? This isn't like you; everyone's beginning to notice how strange you're acting, even Coldstone has noticed and we both know how far his head is shoved up his ass!" That earned Clarissa a faint smirk. "Why can't you tell me?"

Alexis remained quiet for some time before she replied. "I can't," she whispered.

"Why?"

"Because more innocent people will get hurt and I can't allow that to happen," she answered softly.

Clarissa gently grabbed her arm. "Has someone threatened you, Alexis?" The other woman didn't reply.

"Who is it, Alexis? Is it someone on base? Is it someone I know? Who—"

"NO! No! No! It isn't like that, OK!? Just drop it, Clarissa. I'll take care of this myself!" Alexis exploded, jumping to her feet and dragging her palms down over her face in despair; she began to pace the floor restlessly, wringing her hands with anxiety.

"Alexis, if someone's out to hurt you, you should report it. Immediately," Clarissa urged, she had never seen Alexis so upset before. Usually her friend was like a stone wall; hardly anything rattled her cage or ruffled her feathers. Something or someone had really gotten to her friend and wingmate.

"_I can't, Clarissa!_ Can't you see that if I do, more people are going to get injured? Those are the conditions; I do what I'm told and no one gets hurt."

"Oh, really?" Clarissa said sarcastically, putting her hands on her hips. "And what about yourself? Did these _conditions_ cover _your_ health and safety?" she challenged. "And let's say you continue doing what this psycho wants, what's gonna happen when it's over? Your career's at stake, Alexis! Maybe your life! Why won't you let someone help you!?"

Alexis wheeled on her friend. "It's complicated, Clair! If you want what's best for me, you'll drop the subject and never mention it to me or another again, OK? I'm dealing with something I've never experienced before and I've got to take care of it on my own! That's the deal that was made and that's how it's going to stay. End of story! Just…just trust me on this." Alexis sat back down, suddenly exhausted. A long silence ensued as each friend stewed over the words just spoken and feelings that remained hidden.

Finally, Clarissa broke the quiet and gently took Alexis's shuddering form into her arms. Alexis cried then, allowing all her pent up frustration, fear and anger to flow down her cheeks and onto her friend's shoulder. "It's OK, Spades; it's going to be OK. I'll trust you on this and I won't mention this to anyone, but if you need help, if you need _anything_ whatsoever, I'll be here, Ok?"

Alexis lifted her head and met Clarissa's gaze. She gave a small nod. "OK." The two friends then hugged tightly, a silent understanding passing between them.

* * *

Over the course of the next several days, Alexis tried to get back into a routine, or rather establish one to the best of her ability. Clarissa never again mentioned their discussion; however, the concerned glances every now and again reminded her of her friend's worry and support.

She also noticed Coldstone loitering about more and more often. If only he knew how right he had been that night in the hangar when he and Scorch had ran her ghostly assailant off. Fortunately, her ghostly stalker had not yet confronted her about that issue. It puzzled her too, as to why Coldstone all of sudden was showing great concern for her. That just wasn't in Jerry "Coldstone" Stoner's emotional spectrum, or at least up until now it wasn't. Did he really know, or was he pulling her leg like usual?

Sunday dawned bright and beautiful and Alexis had had four full days of what could be termed a "normal" work week. No more accidents had occurred and she wasn't scheduled to fly until Tuesday. The best thing was her spectral stalker had left her alone for the duration of those four days and that had been perfectly fine by her. She hoped that streak would continue, for today was her day off and she intended to take full advantage of it.

Today she traded in her uniform for a more casual pair of faded blue jeans and a T-shirt. But before Alexis would allow herself to indulge in some well-deserved R&R, she had to satisfy the insatiable gnawing of her curiosity. Four days ago, when the ghost had her pinned under her jet, Alexis had noticed the peculiar patching of his uniform, as well as his nameplate. The image of that patch had stuck with her ever since and she hadn't had an opportunity to research it until now. She had seen that patch before, but she couldn't exactly place her finger on where.

She filled a small knapsack with water, snacks and a book she had been reading off and on and then headed off to find one of the base's many computer labs. She found one not far from the picnic area she wanted to visit and began to scan for a suitable seat. She picked the far corner of the lab mainly so snoopers couldn't see what she was doing and also so she could keep an eye on the door in the event someone unwanted turned up. She didn't want anyone knowing what she was doing, although she figured her ghost would find out sooner or later. But her desire to know who she was dealing with currently outweighed any fear of reprisal later down the road.

She quickly accessed the Internet and went to one of her favorite military archival search engines. Her fingers flew over the key board as she typed the name on the ghost's name badge: Maj. Jake Stillwell. A host of information popped up on her screen. She clicked the first link and Alexis smiled as she saw the familiar patch proudly being displayed at the top of the screen, but her smile dropped just a fraction as she saw the words composed in a neat, fluid font just to the side—"_In Remembrance of…" _

The circular patch displayed a large, cartoonish brown hawk in the center. It was winking to all its viewers and its wings cradled a nondescript rifle pointing off towards the right. The hawk was perched on a horizontal AIM-9 Sidewinder missile on a deep, royal blue background. Gold thread ringed the patch and the squadron's name was embroidered on the bottom, just below the missile—The Fighting Hawkeyes.

She read further:

_The 607__th__ Fighter Squadron, better known as the "Fighting Hawkeyes" were the best of the best. Only the best pilots were chosen by their unit commanders to try-out for the squadron. After passing numerous physical and metal challenges as well as having accumulated at least 1,000 hours of actual flight time, only then was a pilot allowed into the privileged ranks of the Hawkeyes. Many considered the squadron the 'Special Forces' of the fighter world, so renowned was their skill. However, the Hawkeyes were formed for one purpose, national defense, and on July 12, 1979, the Hawkeyes were put to the ultimate test._

Alexis then read a quick paraphrase on the Autobot/Decepticon conflict that occurred roughly 30 years prior. She was just a baby when the hottest part of the conflict was raging on her world. She had heard the stories, like everyone else, but by the time she was old enough to truly understand the impact of what had occurred, the horrible conflict had been pushed to the side in a valiant attempt by the world leaders to try and pick up the pieces of what once was and never could be again. It was the world's dismal effort to try and forget the alien's war and pretend as if it never happened, just like a bad dream. But what was even more dismal, was the fact it had worked. Time and petty worries had slowly erased the concern and vigilance that was desperately needed to prevent another hostile invasion from occurring. Only the highest parts of government authority, military rank, and the veterans of those battles fought really remembered "The Great Universal War."

Now she was truly fascinated. So, aliens had been on her planet at one time. Not only that, but her homeworld had been a stage for many of their battles, and in fact, their final battle had been fought here. How interesting. She continued on:

_On July 12, 1979, Major Jake "Sniper" Stillwell led his squadron of 18 F-15A Eagles into aerial combat against the alien aggressors, a subset of Decepticons known as the Seekers. These robotic, alien beings also adopted the form of the F-15 Eagle fighter jet and were quickly identified by their vibrant paint schemes and the Decepticon sigil painted on their wings._

Alexis studied the images of the three different jets marked as Decepticons. Vibrant paint schemes indeed. This also warranted more research at a later date.

_Maj. Stillwell and his elite squadron fought the Seekers in an aerial battle that lasted only five minutes and 45 seconds. Of the eighteen pilots to engage the Decepticons, only two survived: Capt. Mark "O" Prescott and Maj. Linden "Smokes" McCleary. Both pilots had been forced to eject from their planes as they were shot from the sky. Only the rapid intervention of the Autobot aerial force known as the Aerialbots prevented Prescott and McCleary from being shot while parachuting to safety. The brave and ultimate sacrifice given by Stillwell and his squadron helped save hundreds of thousands of lives that day. It was believed the Decepticons were targeting the nuclear facility of Three Mile Island, although their ultimate intention was unknown. Without a doubt, had not the Hawkeyes delayed the Decepticons in achieving their objective and allowed the Autobots time to intervene, the United States would have faced the worst nuclear disaster in history._

Alexis stopped reading the article there. She had read enough information to garner an idea about whom she was dealing with. Obviously, it was Maj. Stillwell's ghost, but the man she had read about in the article didn't sound like anything she was having to deal with in the here and now. He was a highly decorated pilot that had given his life selflessly so that others could live. Why would a person like that come back to haunt a jet? Why come back at all? And why bully and intimidate her in the process or even threaten others lives? Something wasn't adding up right.

Grabbing a pen and a sheet of paper, Alexis quickly jotted down the names of the survivors of the "Battle of Three Mile Island." She stuffed the note into her knapsack and prepared to shutdown her computer. She suddenly paused and as an afterthought quickly printed a copy of the Hawkeye's squadron patch and the images of the three Decepticon jets. She stuffed those into the knapsack as well, shutdown her computer and left the lab. It was now time to enjoy her day of rest.


	6. The Phantom Menace

**A/N: Sorry for the delay guys! I'm currently in Indiana heading for Kansas for some interviews. So updates over the next few weeks will be sporadic; my hectic travel schedule is also part of the reason I haven't been able to respond to my wonderful reviewers! I is sorry! But know that your kind words do not go unappreciated; I love to read and respond to your reviews. So without further ado, here's the next chapter!**

**Chapter 6: The Phantom Menace**

Alexis sighed happily as she stretched her back against the rough bark of the tree she had been leaning against. Her day off was just what the doctor ordered. She set her novel off to the side and laid her head back against the tree, savoring its cool, shady goodness while the area around her little haven baked in the desert sun.

After visiting the computer lab she had spent most of the day curled up at the tree's base losing herself in a reality far from her own. That's what she loved about books; they allowed someone, such as herself, the opportunity to be lost in another world and to temporarily forget their own troubles and tribulations. It gave her mind a much needed reprieve, but as wonderful as her novel was it couldn't completely block out the persistent thoughts that nagged the back of her mind. It wasn't long until her mind once again began to churn over the new information she had learned on her ghostly antagonist. It just didn't seem right. At some point in time she would have to see if those two veterans were still living, and if they were, ask them some questions about their wingleader and that fateful battle. It seemed like a proper course of action. But could she pull it off without tall, dark, and eerie finding out?

She pulled out the piece of paper with the images of the three Decepticon jets printed boldly on the front. They were Eagles, like the jets her squadron flew and the image showed them flying in the classic V-formation. Two jets flew behind and slightly to either side of the flight lead. The one on the right was a brilliant shade of royal blue with vibrant red and white pinstripes adorning the leading edge of the wings and also on the two mostly black tailfins. The jet flying to the left, more closely resembled the Strike Eagle in paint scheme, but it too was a single-seat Eagle. Its scheme was a flat black, and where red and white stripes had been on the blue jet's wings, this one sported a brilliant shade of violet and white. The tailfins were black as well and also sported a violet and white striped image. But it was the lead jet that drew Alexis's eye the longest. Of the three it was the most colorfully painted. The majority of the body appeared to be either a flat white or silver. The air intakes were a gleaming ruby red and the two tailfins were a dazzling royal blue with red and white pinstripes. The wings were striped as well. If Alexis didn't know any better, she would have sworn this Decepticon was trying to pass itself off as an Eagle-version of the Thunderbirds.

All three jets were outfitted with two massive, yet streamlined cannons mounted on the underside of each wing. They also sported a dark purple, sharp-pointed, face-like insignia centered on each wing. Alexis presumed that was the Decepticon emblem referenced in the article. She found it incredible that these three jets brought down the crème-de-la crème of the Air Force; 18 Eagles flown by the best pilots the United States had to offer, annihilated in five minutes and 45 seconds. It was mind boggling.

"Where did you find that?"

Alexis nearly leaped from her skin. Her head whirled around to see Coldstone craning his neck over her shoulder trying to view the picture better.

"None of your business!" she snapped, beginning to cram the paper into her knapsack. However, Coldstone had other ideas. He grabbed her hand which held the knapsack in one of his own and with the other, yanked the piece of paper out of the bag before Alexis could even react. His reflexes were almost as fast as his trigger finger.

"Coldstone! You asshole! Give that back this instant!" she demanded, making a grab for the print-out. He easily held it above her head and for a brief moment the two adults looked like children on a playground, one taunting the other with a desirable item just out of hand's reach—that is, until Alexis started throwing punches.

Once again, Coldstone's fast reflexes served him well. He ducked her left hook just in time and barely dodged a textbook perfect roundhouse kick. "Hey! Hey! Would you cool it just a minute?" He dodged another kick. But Alexis was in a fighting rage now and it seemed no words of wisdom were going to do any good—Execute Plan B.

He waited until just the right moment, his green eyes sparkling in anticipation. He had identified a pattern and he would make sure it would be her downfall—literally. _OK, punch, punch, kick…punch, punch…"_ As Alexis's leg came up, his right hand shot out and grabbed her ankle; next, he instantly crouched with his right arm extended upwards, still gripping her leg while at the same time, he neatly swept his left leg across the grass, catching Alexis in the ankle and successfully sweeping her off her feet.

"Kick," he said smartly, a cocky smirk on his face.

The young woman landed with a hard and startled, "_Ooomph!"_ on her backside, the air in her lungs forced out by the intensity of the fall. In the next instant, Coldstone was on top of her, straddling her stomach, pinning her hands and arms above her head. She bucked and kicked a few times, but oxygen was in short supply at the moment and his solid weight wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Finally, she gave in. They stayed in that position for several long seconds, Alexis glaring daggers and Coldstone just giving her a lazy smirk that all but sing-songed _I'm-better-than-you!_

"You know…I could have you…court-marshaled...for this," she gasped, once she could get enough air to speak properly.

"Hey, you attacked me first, there Captain. I plead self-defense," he replied, eyes still twinkling with triumph. "You're just pissed because I bested you in a fight. You know, you really should avoid setting a pattern."

"No, I'm pissed because you took property that doesn't belong to you," she retorted. Alexis struggled a little more, but it was obvious that Coldstone wasn't going to let her up just yet. "Can I get up now?" she asked grumpily.

"Not until you tell me why you had that picture," he said firmly.

"It's none of your damn business!"

"Well, I'm making it 'my damn business! ' Why do you have a picture of the Seekers?"

She instantly stopped struggling and looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and shock. "You...know about them?"

"Maybe," he replied elusively. "Why do you want to know?"

She hesitated. If she said anything more, would "Maj. Stillwell" reprimand her for it? More than likely. "Well, I, uh, was surfing the Internet earlier and saw an article that mentioned them in passing." _There. That wasn't a complete lie; after all, he didn't need to know her intentions. _"It kinda drew my interest since I'd never heard of them before." _Oh, you're walking a thin line now, O'Conner!_

"Is that so?" Coldstone said with mock interest. She frowned at his ridiculing tone of voice. "Well, I tell you what, Spades. If you're done playing Ultimate Fighting Championship with me, of which I was clearly the winner," he added in an undertone, "I'll tell you what I know on the Seekers, but…" he trailed off, building some light tension, "you have to have dinner with me."

"What!?"

"Did I stutter? You heard me."

"Have dinner…with _you!?"_

"You know, you say it as if it's an insult."

"Uh, oh, well, it's not that; it's just I'm surprised, that's all. I thought you hated me and now you want to have dinner with me?" she said, stumbling over her words like a man on stilts in a prairie dog town.

Coldstone laughed heartily. It was actually kind of a pleasant sound to hear, coming from him. "I never _hated _you, Spades. Did I think you were a bitch at times? Yes, but every woman is now and again. But I never actually hated you. You're the best in the squadron; of course I'm gonna gun for you. A little healthy competition keeps everyone on their toes, right?"

Alexis finally allowed herself a small grin. "I guess," she replied.

"So how about that dinner? Let's say Joe's at 1900 sharp?" As he spoke, he got up off her stomach and offered her a hand up. She took it firmly and allowed him to hoist her to her feet. She then cocked her head to one side and looked as if she were thinking hard on the question.

Finally she smirked. "OK."

"I'll meet you at your room then. Oh, and here's your bag," he said, offering her the knapsack.

"Thanks. I guess I'll see you then." She turned and walked off, leaving him to carry on in his own direction. Despite her outwardly calm appearance, she had a multitude of different emotions swirling around inside her. She actually agreed to go on a date with "Coldstone" Stoner! One part of her was screaming, _What are you thinking!_ While another part of her was strangely all jittery inside. She had _agreed_ to go on a date with Coldstone!

_Wait, it's just business; he's got information that I need and that's the only reason I'm doing this, _her cool, calculating side said.

_Well, maybe's he's not the biggest asshole on base like everyone says he is,_" this new, traitorous side argued. "_You have to admit he is kind of cute."_

"_Cute!? Hah! How in the hell can arrogance be cute!? He's bound to have an ulterior motive."_

"_Still, how long has it been since you've been on an actual date? Too long. So take this time to have some fun and enjoy yourself, 'cause it's only a matter of time until "Casper" the not-so-friendly-ghost shows up and makes your life a living hell once more."_

With that last thought, Alexis ultimately sided with this new, inquisitive side of her personality and for some strange, twisted reason she was actually looking forward to tonight.

* * *

It was later in the evening when Alexis arrived back at her apartment. Tomcat was fully dressed in her flight suit and was making final preparations to leave. She looked up at Alexis's entry and paused for a moment, the goofy grin on her friend's face not going unnoticed.

"I haven't seen you grinning like that since you put grease on the men's toilet seats back in UPT," she snipped, "Mind telling me what's got you so happy?"

"Promise you won't get mad?" Alexis countered, her grin turning into a sly smirk.

"All right, Spades, what did you do?" Tomcat asked in a manner that reminded Alexis of her mother.

"I'm going out to dinner with Coldstone," she said matter-of-factly, her green eyes still alight with amusement.

"_What!? _OK, who are you and what have you done with my friend, Spades?_"_

Alexis huffed exaggeratedly and playfully threw a couch pillow at Tomcat's face. "I'm serious! I can barely believe I agreed to go myself."

"What evil, incarnated spirit possessed you to do so?" Clarissa asked surreptitiously.

Alexis flinched at the comment, but Tomcat seemed unphased by her friend's slight reaction. "I-I don't know," she replied, "It just kinda happened."

"Spades, dates with squadron archrivals don't 'just happen," Tomcat countered. "Come on; tell me," she pleaded. "How did it happen? Did you ask or did he ask? Where were—"

"Tomcat, one question at a time, girl!" Alexis replied, holding her hands up. _How was she going to explain this?_ "OK, OK, You know how today was my day off right?" Clarissa nodded her head eagerly, like a child totally enamored with her favorite fairy tale. "Well, I decided to go to the park to catch up on my reading and just chill for the day, when he walked up behind me and about scared the crap outta me. We bickered and argued, like usual, one thing led to another and then out of the blue he asked me out."

"Just like that?" Tomcat asked dubiously, hands on her hips.

"Just like that," Alexis confirmed. Ok, so maybe she had been a little vague, stretched things a tiny bit, and downright excluded certain happenings (namely her and Coldstone's little wrestling match) but, Alexis saw no reason to allow Clarissa to be privy to that type of information just yet. She loved her friend, but Tomcat also had a habit of forgetting to turn on the filter to the brain-to-mouth thing. Alexis wasn't quite ready for the whole base to blow this thing way out of proportion. Actually, she would count her lucky stars if "Stillwell" didn't already know.

"Ah, well you'll have to let me know how it went when I get back," Tomcat said, shouldering her satchel and one other bag.

"Mission?" Alexis hypothesized, looking at the equipment her friend was handling.

"You guessed it. An overnighter; I'll fly back in sometime tomorrow evening, so let me know how it goes," the redhead said, she threw a wave over her shoulder, which Alexis returned, and walked out the door, the catch clicking shut with finality.

_Well, now that that's over with, _she thought to herself. She threw her book onto the couch and jogged into the bedroom. She only had a couple hours to get ready and there was a lot she had to do.

* * *

A firm knock on the door, drew Alexis's head out of the bedroom. She was just finishing putting the finishing touch of hairspray to her style when she heard the knock.

"One minute!" she called, setting the can down and walking to the door. She opened it quickly and stood back, eyes wide with surprise. In the doorway stood a grinning Coldstone Stoner and what a handsome sight he did make. Coldstone was wearing a nice set of khaki slacks with dark brown dress shoes and a nice sage-colored, button-up dress shirt that really highlighted the green specks within his eyes. To finish his outfit he wore an A-2 style leather aviator jacket decorated with the squadron's patch as well as others he had earned and collected over the years. His normally spiky, sandy colored hair was combed flat on top with only the leading edge over his forehead spiked upwards.

He grinned mischievously when he saw Alexis standing in the doorway, which earned him an embarrassed smile in return. Alexis liked to dress up for semi-formal occasions, but when she did, she felt vulnerable and a little on edge. It wasn't something she did every day, or planned to do for that matter.

The lieutenant's eyes swept over her figure, taking everything in a brief, measured glance. Alexis wore an elegant but simple, dark blue satin dress with a V-neck front. The front of the dress accented her bosom just enough, not showing too much or too little. She wore a simple diamond and pearl pendant that had been her mother's, along with matching studs in her ears. Her make-up was light but accentuated her beautiful green eyes. Her chocolate-colored, shoulder-length hair was down and curled inward towards her face, framing her delicate cheek bones. She was both simple and elegant, a picture of beauty that very few had ever seen outside of uniform.

"You look beautiful, Captain," Coldstone said, sincerity plain within his voice.

"Thank you, Coldstone, and please, just Spades or Alexis will do," she said with a slight laugh at his formalness. It was strange, coming from him and yet gratifying. Perhaps they had finally reached a point of mutuality.

"Alexis? Is that your real name?" he asked, interest puzzling his features. She nodded and then turned and locked the door. He offered her his elbow and she took it gratefully.

"You know, this whole time we've been in this squadron and I never knew your real name. If you don't mind my asking, how did you come by your call sign?"

She looked up at him and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't mind. It's rather simple really. When I was still training back in UPT my instructor was impressed with my natural ability to handle the aircraft. I had no prior experience with planes or flight or anything of that nature, but for me it was almost like second nature. My instructor told me that I had 'talent in spades.' Word got back around to the others in my class and it kinda stuck."

"Really? So that explains why you're so good." He gave her a playful nudge with his elbow before letting go and opening the passenger side door of his vehicle. Alexis paused just a moment to admire the gleaming piece of machinery before her. It was a metallic blue Mazda RX-8, fully loaded. Its metallic chip paint shimmered in the final rays of the evening sun. The leather seats were warm and inviting as Alexis slid into the car and fastened her seatbelt.

"Nice car," she offered. Coldstone slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. It purred to life with a gently thrum; it didn't possess the throaty roar like most American muscle cars, but this vehicle was no slouch in the horsepower department either. Coldstone grinned once more and slipped the car into gear—a manual; despite herself, Alexis was beginning to like Coldstone's taste in vehicles.

"Thanks," he smirked just before flooring the accelerator and cutting a neat donut in the center of the parking lot. Before Alexis could regain her wits, they were tearing out of the lot and heading for the base gates, slowing just enough for the guards to recognize the car and its driver, before Coldstone once again gave the horses' their reins and unleashed the raw power under the hood.

"Are you trying to get into trouble!?" she exclaimed, but her green eyes were alight with excitement as the desert country side blurred into varying shades of tans, browns, and russets. OK, she admitted it; she was a speed junkie, whether it had wheels or wings.

"Who me? You're only in trouble if ya get caught, of which I have no intention." He threw her a wink. And with that the frosty ice between the two former rivals began to thaw. Alexis learned they had much in common: a love for all things fast and dangerous, beautiful countryside, fine cuisine and many others.

On the ride to the city, she learned a little bit more of Coldstone's past. He grew up in a small suburb on the outskirts of Charlotte, NC. Like most young boys, he had a fascination with planes, cars, trains—anything that moved and had mechanical parts really. He graduated in the top ten percent of his class in high school and college all while maintaining top honors in college basketball and baseball. It appeared he had been quite an athlete back in the day. He had received numerous job offers and even a position serving in the White House, but he had turned them all down in favor of service to his country.

"So what made you want to become a pilot, Coldstone? Why the Air Force? Why this life when you had so many other options, better options even?" she finally asked, once he had finished his life's narrative. For the first time that night, she watched Coldstone become uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat and he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. "I'm sorry," she blurted out, turning her gaze away to stare at the floorboard. "I didn't mean to…"

"Oh, no, no! It's OK…Alexis," he turned and gave her a reassuring smile. "It's all right." He gave a long sigh before speaking again. "My dad was a pilot in the Air Force and he was a good one too. My whole life I wanted to be just like him. I didn't see much of him, but when I did I spent every waking minute I could with him. He flew for the 607th Fighter Squadron."

Alexis gasped slightly when she heard that; it wasn't unnoticed by Coldstone.

"You know of them?" he asked, looking at her once more.

"Uh, yeah, I do. I saw an article about them," she said vaguely, trying not to reveal more information than necessary. Still, it shocked her that Coldstone's father was among those of that famous, ill-fated squadron.

"I'm sure that article also mentioned what happened to them," he eluded, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"Yes, it did," she replied quietly.

"I thought so. Those jets you were looking at earlier today—they're responsible for my father's death and one in particular, the red, white and blue one." She glanced up and met his stare. In that fleeting moment, Alexis never saw so much emotion flicker across another human's face—anger, resentment, sadness, bitterness. "They called him Starscream," Coldstone continued. "From what I was able to gather, he was a big wig in the alien's army. Second in command or something of that sort, and what a mean, nasty son of a bitch he was too. They all were, but he was the worst. When the Decepticons attacked Three Mile Island, Dad's squadron was the first one called. The sad thing was every man jack of them knew they didn't have a snowball's chance in Hell to make it out of there alive, those jets were that good. Dad and the crew gave 'em hell, but it just wasn't enough. That alien bastard shot him out of the sky and then turned around and shot my father when he ejected! When he _ejected,_ Alexis!" Coldstone stopped his rant and became very quiet.

Alexis knew her fellow pilot was trying to cope with his emotions. Now she understood why he had shown such a tenacious interest in her picture. One of these Decepticons had killed her squadronmate's father. Both of her parents were still living, so she couldn't quite relate, but she could still comfort. Alexis gently placed her hand on Coldstone's arm. It was such a simple gesture but it spoke volumes to her distressed wingman.

"Thank you," he whispered; he cleared his throat and then continued on as if nothing ever happened. "Anyways, I joined the Air Force not only to follow in my father's footsteps, but to get revenge on that sadistic bastard for killing him, but he disappeared after the Battle for Autobot City and no one's seen nut or bolt of him since. At this point I've given up hope of ever facing Starscream or any of the Decepticons myself, so I'm just going to settle for finishing my twenty and retiring."

Alexis chewed over his words for a second before posing another question. "Coldstone, if these Decepticons are as good as what you say they are, have you ever stopped to consider that if your father's squadron couldn't stop them, what makes you think you can avenge him?"

He turned and looked at her, one of the most solemn and serious expressions she had ever seen on his normally arrogant face. "I don't know, Alexis. All I know is…" he sighed, "…all I know is if that son of a bitch ever shows his tailfins in US air space again, I'm gonna be ready for him…I'm gonna be ready."

"Do you think that they'll return?" Alexis asked, hesitancy in her voice. After all, she had only just learned the bare basics of the Autobot and Decepticon war on Earth not eight hours prior. Her curiosity was more than a little piqued.

"I can't say for sure. Since they've been gone for this long, I'd like to think so, but we can never be too careful."

"You seem to know a lot about these things," she commented off-handily.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't up until Dad was killed. I was like everyone else; I heard the rumors, saw the news reports and took it all with a grain of salt, but when one of those things kills one of your family members it all of sudden becomes personal."

"I see. And what of the Autobots; are they still here on Earth?"

"A few, but no more than one or two at any one point in time. It's mainly all diplomatic horse shit nowadays. So what about you? Why are you interested in all this?"

"Well like I said, when I came across the article mentioning the 607th and their adversaries, it caught my attention. They didn't mention that kind of stuff when I was growing up and even now people don't want to talk about it. You're the first person I've come across that has even remotely told me anything having to do with the aliens and to be honest, it both frightens and fascinates me."

"I see," he replied neutrally. Coldstone had a subtle suspicion that Alexis wasn't telling him exactly everything, but then again, ever since their mission together back in the desert when she had done that mind-blowing nose dive, he had held suspicions; this only furthered his beliefs. He really hadn't counted on Alexis going to dinner with him, but since she had agreed, it was only icing on the cake. They didn't have any more time to discuss the topic further. A bright blue, neon sign flashing "Eat Joe's" greeted their arrival. And for once, Coldstone was going to attempt to speak about a topic other than himself.

* * *

Alexis laughed jovially as she raced up the stairs to her apartment. Dinner had been a blast. The food had been spectacular and her "date" had actually been a fun guy to hang around for once. She glanced over shoulder and threw said date a grin. He grinned back in return, looking like a high school senior on his prom night. Much too quickly for either of their tastes, they arrived at her door. She stopped and turned around to face Stoner. She had learned so many new things about her squadron-mate and he in turn, about her. She hoped that now, their time in the air wouldn't be as tense or insufferable.

"Thanks, Coldstone. I had a wonderful time," she said, looking into his grey-green eyes. He smiled warmly in return.

"You're not just saying that, now are you _Captain?_" he teased lightly.

"Are you doubting a superior officer, _Lieutenant?_" she countered smartly, throwing him a wink in return. "But seriously though, I had a great time."

"Good. Perhaps another time?" he cocked his head curiously.

"Maybe," she replied elusively, "but right now, we both have to get up early tomorrow. Flight planning for Tuesday, remember?"

"How could I forget that? Do you know what the mission is yet?" he asked, turning a more serious note.

"No, I don't. It's still on a Need-to-Know basis; I guess we'll find out tomorrow," she shrugged her cream-colored shoulders. "See you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." He threw her a wink and walked back down the hall, disappearing down the stairwell.

Alexis sighed and then turned and unlocked the door. She walked into the darkened room and flipped a switch, brilliant, artificial light illuminating the living room. As she turned from the wall, she nearly shrieked in fright and perhaps would have, had not an ice-cold hand firmly gripped her jaw in iron-tight grip. Her eyes widened in fear and she brought both hands to bear on the offender's wrist, but it was useless. She stared wide-eyed into fierce, hate-filled demon-like eyes. Stillwell pushed her violently back against the wall and pinned her tightly to it, towering over her in a powerful fit of angry rage. His pale face was inches from hers and when he spoke his icy breath raised hundreds of miniscule goosebumps up and down her neck.

"_Who is he!?" _the ghost snarled angrily in her face. His heated gaze juxtaposed the glacial-like feel of his breath.

"Who?" she squeaked, eyes never deviating from his. _Those eyes…_They were like liquid pools of hot, molten iron, swirling and frothing with the intensity of Victoria Falls.

"_DON'T_ play games with _me_, girl!" He pressed against her forcefully. She felt cold, hard muscles press against the thin fabric of her dress. Alexis struggled violently and tried to push the figure away but Stillwell merely grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the wall on either side of her head. His body was flush against her own and she had about as much a chance of escaping his hold as a hare escaping the clutches of a boa constrictor. "Did you tell him about me!? _DID YOU!?_"

Alexis's mind spun wildly as she tried to piece together the puzzle of strewn thoughts whirling around in her brain. Was he referring to Coldstone? He had to be; Coldstone and Scorch were…the…only two…_Oh my God! Coldstone had made a comment about my jet being haunted last night!_

"What!? No! I haven't told anyone! I promise!"

He shifted her two, thin wrists to one hand and used his other to wrap ghostly pale fingers around her neck. The steely touch was like someone wrapping a cold iron collar around her throat and then slowly squeezing it shut with painfully precise movements. "I. Don't. Believe. You." He smirked then, and it was the most frightening thing she had faced yet.

"I swear I haven't said _anything! _If you're referring to last night, Coldstone was just joking, that's all. He and some others have noticed the strange things happening around my, err, uh, _your_ jet, namely my avionics tech _you_ all but murdered! I haven't done a damn thing!" she hissed fiercely. Oh, what she would give to see Tomcat strolling through that door right now! But she knew her roommate would not return until tomorrow and for now, she was alone.

"Is that so?" he purred smoothly, sarcasm dripping from each word like grease. "Then would you mind telling me exactly what you two were doing tonight?"

"What!?" she exclaimed with disbelief. "Who do you think you are, my mother?! I do not have to answer to you, shithead!" Her eyes once again flashed from fear to anger and a slight heated blush rose to color her cheeks and forehead.

Stillwell's smirk widened and he brought his frosty hand up to her cheek. His fingers stroked the soft, delicate flesh of her face and although he couldn't feel it himself, he watched the girl shiver beneath his touch. Her eyes fluttered and her breaths stalled within her breast; it pleased him. Her spirit was so…indomitable. He had never instilled fear or anger in anyone or anything simultaneously; it was always one or the other but never both. She was so unlike other humans he had dealt with. She was getting bold, too bold and the root of such strength was stemming from her male counterpart. He indeed had heard the conversation last night and had silently watched the two co-workers leave earlier today. Starscream knew this male wasn't one she normally associated with, so he knew something had to have happened between them to cause them to plan such a meeting. He couldn't watch the female all the time, after all, he had a body to re-construct, but he couldn't allow her to run around like a stray rocket either.

"You humans forget so quickly," he sneered. "You do realize you must fly with me in 36 Earth hours? I must not have made myself clear last night. _You. Are. Mine. Alexis Marie O'Conner. _And you will remain in my possession until I see fit to release you." An evil, malevolent smile curled the corners of his lips and his eyes seemed to glow even more intensely. "And I don't foresee that happening anytime soon."

Suddenly a loud click echoed through the room. Both Starscream and Alexis turned to see the dark muzzle of a 9mm Baretta handgun aimed unwaveringly at the ghost's head.

"Step away from the lady, you sick, sadistic, son of a bitch!" Coldstone snarled fiercely from the doorway of Alexis's apartment. Starscream hissed angrily at the intruder, released Alexis and then turned to face the pilot. He roared angrily at the interruption between master and servant and lunged for Coldstone.

A muffled shot rang out through the apartment which was quickly followed by a woman's scream.


	7. Heart & Soul

**A/N: Not much to say except Enjoy! Expect some major events to unfold in the upcoming chapter. Cheers!**

**Chapter 7: Heart & Soul**

Alexis found herself pressed tightly against the wall, both hands spread against the smooth surface, pure unadulterated fear on her face. She watched as the transparent image of Stilwell lunged for Coldstone, stared in horror as a flash of white-orange fire leaped from the muzzle of the handgun, and then cringed instinctively as the bullet _thwacked_ into the wall no more than 18 inches from her upper body.

When she finally garnered the courage to look up, she saw Coldstone staring blankly at where his enemy _would have been _had the projectile made contact with a solid body. But as it was, there was no body and there was no trace of her ghostly attacker. The only evidence that there was even a confrontation was the still, lightly smoking barrel of the gun and the small, round bullet hole in the wall. The short, stunned silence only lasted a few seconds, however, as Coldstone quickly regained his composure and strode over to his frightened wingmate.

"Are you all right?" he asked, though the question sounded closer to a demand. He gripped her shoulders tightly, gun still in his right hand, muzzle pointed upward. Her startled green eyes took in the elongated barrel and the small cylinder at the end—a silencer. That explained why no one had responded to the shot. A gentle shake quickly redirected her attention.

She looked up and met his concerned gaze, her answer on her lips. The raising of her eyebrows was the only warning Coldstone received. The young pilot grabbed her harshly by the shoulders and flung her to the right, falling with her and using his body as a shield, they fell unceremoniously to the floor. Coldstone felt the whip of fast moving air kiss his shoulder blade, followed by a roar of fury.

"Get out of here!" he yelled, pushing himself off her body and lunging for the attacker. Alexis watched, horrified, as Coldstone dove straight through Stilwell as if he were no more than a vapor. The pilot then whirled around to counter the imminent attack, but he wasn't quick enough. A powerful fist connected with his left cheek, slicing the flesh open and staining the carpet with droplets of ruby red beads. Coldstone stumbled backwards, stunned both from the power behind the hit and the fact that he had been hit at all. His pistol clattered to the floor and skidded under the couch. He stared in wide-eyed wonder at the malevolent being before him, his mind struggling to comprehend the difference between what he knew could not be possible and what was actually standing before him.

"_What _in the hell are you?" he whispered fiercely through blood-stained lips. The image of Stilwell grinned wickedly and the eyes flashed crimson for the briefest of moments.

"I'm your worst nightmare come to kill you!" the transparent figure snarled. With a speed that rivaled the strike of a rattler, Stilwell charged Coldstone. Only the pilot's polished reflexes saved him from receiving a crippling blow. He pivoted on his right foot to counter-attack, slinging a left hook with all his might. The punch was true, but failed to connect with any solid flesh. Coldstone watched in horror as his powerful fist swept right through Stilwell's head, a cold, icy air enveloping his hand before sweeping out the other side.

"What the hell?!" he whispered, barely dodging another strike. Every strike, every punch passed harmlessly through the ghost, while its every attack was growing closer and closer to permanently injuring him. For all the work he was doing, Coldstone felt as if he would have had better luck fighting a cloud; at least clouds couldn't fight back. The pilot was forced to retreat under the powerful assault of Stilwell. It was at that moment Coldstone came to a spine-chilling realization—he was fighting a losing battle. This ghost, this demon, whatever this thing was that masqueraded as his father's deceased flight leader could not be harmed with human hands; it was a mind-numbing realization.

Then suddenly he felt the hard, unyielding surface of one of the walls behind him and his heart nearly froze in his chest. This…this thing had him cornered! An evil wicked grin broke across Stilwell's features as he closed in on his prey. The eyes flashed angrily and Coldstone could have sworn he saw the fires of Hell burning within them. He watched warily trying his damndest to keep the fear bubbling within his chest at bay. Stilwell stalked closer until the two men were eye to eye with other, a cruel smirk pulling on the corners of the entity's mouth. Coldstone swallowed loudly before speaking, his voice a hoarse whisper in the small room.

"Don't you know it's not nice to mock the dead?" he whispered sarcastically, eyes hardened with hate. Stilwell chuckled softly, a dry sound without mirth and full of evil.

"That's assuming one respects the dead in the first place, human," he replied. Suddenly the eyes turned cold and calculating. "You look familiar," he mused. "What is your designation?"

"Bite me!" Suddenly Coldstone saw stars swimming before his eyes, the after-effect of Stilwell's punch.

"_Do not play games with me maggot!_ What is your designation!?"

Coldstone spat in his face, or rather, spat through his face. But Stilwell merely smirked.

"Fine. If you want to play games, human, then we shall, but I must warn you. I. Always. Win."

Before the pilot could make a sarcastic retort he felt a horrible, gut-wrenching pain in his stomach. It felt as if he were being stabbed with a dagger made of ice. His face paled to a sickly white and his eyes fell to the region where so much pain was stemming. The ghost's left hand had phased into his body and was slowly working its way up and under his ribcage.

"I hope I'm not causing you any discomfort," Stilwell's honeyed voice pierced the pain-filled fog. "Forgive me. I've never ripped a human's heart from the inside out before." He tightened his hold and Coldstone gasped automatically. "Now tell me your designation, human!" Another tightened yank and Coldstone nearly doubled over from the agony.

"_STOP IT!" _a feminine voice broke through the stalemate. Starscream couldn't feel her touch on his shoulder but he could sense the proximity of things close to him. He turned and saw her hand on his shoulder the other reaching for his arm that was half-way phased into Coldstone's body. "_Please_, stop! Killing him will serve no purpose whatsoever and only draw more unwanted attention."

Her words rang with truth, as much as he despised admitting it. He stared at her, red eyes searching green ones, looking for weakness, frailty--anything to take advantage of; but there was no such thing. He stopped advancing on Coldstone's heart and then slowly withdrew his hand from the human's body. He couldn't kill him—not yet. Snarling angrily he pushed himself away from the pilot and watched with glowering eyes as Alexis quickly gathered the stunned man in her arms. She glared up at him hatefully, emerald eyes dancing like green flames. Her anger didn't faze him; if anything it stirred something deep within him. He _liked_ her anger directed at him. He liked the fact that for the moment, she was focused on him. But like all good moments, it didn't last long. Coldstone's hoarse voice drew his attention from those emerald flames and back to his adversary.

"You're…not Stilwell," he croaked painfully, still doubled over in Alexis's arms.

"What in the name of Primus gave you that conclusion?" he sneered, kneeling down before them. He watched with amusement as the girl tensed—like she could protect him. Ha! He looked at Alexis. "Who is he?" Starscream demanded.

Alexis hesitated. She had already witnessed Stilwell's capacity for violence and just how useless it was to fight him, but on the other hand she really didn't want to roll over and give up like a whipped cur either. The intense stare her ghostly partner was giving her hardened; she had better say something soon.

"He's Stoner. Lt. Jerry 'Coldstone' Stoner, my squadronmate and wingman," she finally answered. She watched warily as Stilwell's countenance grew thoughtful.

"Stoner," he mused, almost to himself. "I know that name." He stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"You ought to…if…you were the real…Stilwell," Coldstone gasped. "But since you're not, why don't you go back to Hell, where you came from?!"

Starscream chuckled darkly. Even after nearly having his life squeezed out of him, this one showed defiance. How pathetically amusing.

"Not even the keeper of the Pit wanted my soul, boy. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here tormenting pathetic fleshbags such as yourself."

"What kind of a ghost are you?" Alexis whispered, brow creased with puzzlement.

The question caught Starscream off guard. What kind of ghost _was _he? To his knowledge he was the first and only Cybertronian ghost in existence. He had powers and abilities that transcended the normal parameters humans associated with their own ethereal entities. He was in the process of rebuilding his own body; that was unprecedented. So _what_ was he?

"The cursed kind," he whispered softly. He looked up and stared into her emerald depths. "I will not kill him so long as he swears to not reveal my presence."

"And why should I protect you?" Coldstone said hoarsely.

"Oh, I don't know…perhaps Miss O'Conner here can explain why it is a good idea to follow my suggestions." Still staring at Alexis, he slowly faded away like a wisp of smoke on the wind.

* * *

Alexis breathed a sigh of relief as she watched the ghost fade away, probably returning to the jet from whence he came. She turned her attention back to Coldstone; he was recovering, but slowly. She had watched in horror as her wingmate tried to stave off the ghostly persecutor, her frozen with fear and helpless to do anything. What could you do against an attacker that you couldn't touch? How do you fight an opponent that showed no visible weakness? Alexis didn't know what had come over her, but she knew that if she didn't do something Coldstone was going to die. Her reaction had been automatic, without thought; she had jumped up and ran to the two combatants, placing her hand on the ghost's shoulder. She fully expected to die or get seriously injured, but she would be damned first before just standing by and doing nothing. But unlike Coldstone's punches, her hand had rested gently on the fabric. She was even able to feel the muscles tensing and flexing beneath her palm--cold, hard and unrelenting.

But perhaps the most surprising thing that occurred to her was the fact the ghost had actually _listened_to her. He didn't kill her wingman and he hadn't killed her. She reflected on the last part of the conversation. That the ghost was deeply interested in Coldstone had not escaped her notice and she now realized that he wasn't who he portrayed himself to be. Coldstone's vicious verbal attack had proven that. After all, his father had flown under the real Stilwell, so Coldstone should have some idea of how the man was in real life, wouldn't he? So that begs the question who or what was that thing possessing her jet?

Her thoughts then drifted to the question she had asked him: what kind of ghost was he? For the briefest of instants, Alexis could have sworn she saw pain flicker in those red depths. And not physical pain either, but the emotional kind. It was as if she had stabbed him straight through the heart. What was he? And why did he say he was cursed?

A sudden stirring of movement drew Alexis's attention back to her squadronmate. Slowly Coldstone began to struggle, rising wobbly to his feet. He coughed hoarsely and staggered, using Alexis's shoulder as a brace. Once he was steady on his feet, she stepped away and watched him cautiously.

"Are you—" she began, but he cut her off.

"I'm fine. I'm fine now that I don't have a vice squeezing my heart to death," he grumbled, rubbing his chest subconsciously. He looked up at her gave her a level stare. "Do you mind tellin' me what in the hell is going on here?"

"It's a long story," she replied, helping him over to the couch. He sat down heavily and leaned back, eyes staring at the ceiling. Alexis quickly walked to the kitchen and moistened a cloth under the faucet. She then turned and walked back into the sitting room.

"I believe you owe me an explanation, Captain."

Alexis flinched at the use of her rank. He was right; she did owe him an explanation. But where to begin? "You remember what happened to Scotty, right?" she began, sitting down next to him and handing him the damp cloth.

"Unfortunately, yes." He took the cloth and began to dab lightly at the cut across his cheek.

"Well, it was all my fault..." With that she began to relate her connection to the mysterious ghost, not leaving a detail out or an aspect unexplained. For his part, Coldstone listened intently and when Alexis had finished he sat in a heavy, brooding silence.

"Talk about being between a rock and a hard place," he finally muttered, pulling both hands down and over his face.

"You're telling me?" Alexis snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. Now that Coldstone was fully involved, she didn't know whether to feel relieved or regretful.

Coldstone resumed his silence and began to mull over all that Alexis had told him. Piece by piece, little by little he began to put together a terrifying puzzle—the threats, the warnings, the ghost's chosen home, its take-over of the jet and the flight maneuvers performed, the blazing eyes, even the insults—human, fleshbag and maggot--but the most damning clue of all was the ghost's use of Stilwell's image; everything was beginning to make sense and it was sending a spine-tingling shiver down his back.

"Alexis," he began turning his head to look at her, "this may sound incredibly ludicrous, but given all that has happened up to this point, I think it's safe to say that we're not dealing with just an ordinary ghost, but more than likely a potential Decepticon."

"But I thought they all left Earth; didn't they? I mean, no one has seen one in almost 30 years."

"Think about it, Alexis. It all makes sense," he urged. "The threats, the red eyes, your 'malfunctioning' jet. You said yourself you weren't the one in control; he was. That's proof enough for me. We have a damn Decepticon on this base, right here, right now. We need to let the Base Commander know about this." Coldstone stood up, a determined look on his face.

"No!" Alexis shouted, grabbing his arm at the same time. "Coldstone don't do it! He'll know. He'll know that we told someone and he'll kill us. I know he will." He stared at her with a stunned look on his face.

"So what are we supposed to do, Alexis? Stand by and watch as he picks us off one by one? I know what these bastards are capable of! Hell, he almost killed me tonight!"

"But he didn't!" Alexis countered. "Yes, he's threatened me. Yes, he's hurt other people and yes, he almost killed you, but I think there's something we're missing here, Coldstone. He hasn't _killed_anyone yet. If these Decepticons are as powerful as everyone says they are, why hasn't this one wiped us out? Why are we still here? Why does this Decepticon want me to put up a front for it? Something is not making sense and if we fly off the handle now we might put more people in danger than what they are!"

"What's with you!?" Coldstone demanded. "Listen to yourself! You sound as if you're actually defending it! What would have happened if I hadn't come back? This thing tried to kill us, Alexis, and it's only a matter of time before it actually does!"

"I realize that, Coldstone, but think for just a moment! There's got to be a reason why we're not dead yet! That thing could have easily killed you just a few minutes ago and God only knows it had plenty of opportunities to dispatch me, so why hasn't it!?"

"So you think if we confront it, it will just up and tell us!? Even I'm not that stupid!"

"No! What I'm saying is we need to keep playing his game. If we don't, _we _won't be the ones to pay the price; others, like Scotty, will. That's how this guy works—he hurts those we care about, to get to us. Besides, even if we did notify the Commander, there is no guarantee they'll do anything about it! Hardly anyone knows what a frickin' Decepticon is anymore and from what you've told me, those that do, avoid the subject like a plague. They're in denial! Chances are the Commander will turn a blind eye and hope it will all go away. Furthermore, we don't even have any hard evidence it exists. All we've got is our personal experiences and we both know that's worth no more than a plugged nickel!"

Coldstone growled angrily. She was right; there was no evidence—none whatsoever. Everything was hear-say and it was infuriating. Coldstone would never admit it out loud to anyone, but he was afraid. Afraid because he had almost been killed tonight by a very foul-tempered alien with an identity crisis, but also because Alexis had a brush with death as well. On the same token, he was furious with himself because his hands were tied. This bastard had them both right where he wanted them and there wasn't a damn thing he or Alexis could do about it other than to go along, like a lamb to the slaughter. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. "So what do you think we should do?" he asked finally, defeat plain in his voice.

"We play along and I'm going to trust you to not say a _word_ to _anyone. _That's an order. I don't know why, but I have a funny feeling about this whole situation. Call me crazy but I think I may be able to talk to this thing and figure out what's going on." Alexis said, her emerald eyes cloudy with deep thought.

"You tried that before, remember? What makes you think he won't turn on you again? You were lucky me and Scorch were in the area. Hell Alexis! Look what happened tonight! Forgive me if I'm not too believing!"

"I'm a grown woman, Stoner! Don't you think I've already considered what could go wrong!? I've got to try something! For goodness sakes, I have to fly with this bastard on Tuesday! Just give me a chance. If you want, you can stand outside the hangar, but I have to try something."

He grew quiet as he considered everything Alexis had said thus far. "All right. I can't argue with your orders, but at the first sign that thing tries to hurt someone, especially you, I'm reporting it, Captain. I'll wait for you outside." He retrieved his pistol, checked the clip and with a curt nod, left the apartment.

Alexis sighed heavily, relieved that he was gone, at least for the moment. So, Coldstone believed her jet to be a Decepticon? It was most certainly a strong possibility; there certainly was enough circumstantial evidence to indicate such. But something happened tonight, something that made Alexis stop and re-think everything up to this point.

'_What kind of a ghost are you?'_

'_The cursed kind.'_

Her question and his answer continually looped within her mind. There was so much pain, hurt and anger in those three words. It cast everything in a different light. And even in that final look just before he disappeared, there was something there…Why? Why all the ferocity? The secrecy? The manipulation? Was he just a ghost hell-bent on terrifying anyone or anything or underneath all that hostility, was there method in the madness?

* * *

Electric current sizzled through the circuitry of Capt. Spades O'Conner's jet. Had anyone been within the hangar, they would have surely rustled old Crowbar from his warm bed to inspect the war bird for an obvious malfunction. But the funny thing was, there was no actual malfunction.

He had been so stupid! How could he have allowed himself to get caught!? It was bad enough one putrid flesh creature knew of his existence, but now two? And to compound matters, the male somehow knew he was masquerading as a deceased human pilot. How had he known? Did it have something to do with his familiarity? The male looked so familiar…Bah! All humans looked the same! He eventually gave up trying to place the male human's familiarity and tried to focus on what he needed to do now.

He couldn't kill either of them—not yet. The female, Alexis, had been right in that aspect; their deaths would draw too much attention to the current situation, even if they were "accidental." He absolutely hated to admit it, but he had to rely on the female to keep his secret and to convince her counterpart to do the same. It wasn't very promising. On the bright side, the humans really had no hard core evidence of his existence. The bumbling mechanic couldn't detect the changes happening under his nose and all electronical evidence had already been destroyed as it had been accrued and since most humans did not remember the events that took place 30 terrestrial years ago, his chances of remaining hidden were fairly good. He only needed a couple more days—just two more days. The conversion process had been slow, but steady. The only thing left to be manufactured was a new spark chamber—the most delicate and important component of the body. In all honesty, he had no idea if this crazy scheme would work; he only knew he had to try. His powers as a ghost were phenomenal and it would be spectacular if he could retain them once his body was ready. But for all the power he had as an ethereal entity, Starscream had realized just how much he missed his mortality.

He couldn't feel the simplest pleasures he had enjoyed while mortal. He couldn't touch, couldn't feel anything. He couldn't feel the wind over his wings, couldn't feel the rock and dust grind underneath his heel, couldn't feel when others touched him. And then before he knew it, he caught himself wondering what Alexis's touch would have really felt like on his holoform. He had been starved of feeling for so long that any touch, including a despicable human's, would be, in a way welcoming. It would let him know that he was—alive. Not a shadow of the living.

Alexis.

He found himself thinking of her more and more. So willing to defy him and yet…those eyes. What had he seen within those green depths just before he left? Compassion?

No. She hated being under his will too much to show him that pathetic emotion.

Sympathy? No, that wasn't it either.

Understanding? What was there to understand? Until that idiotic male blew his cover, he was an earthly ghost to her, a malicious spirit intent on making her life miserable.

Suddenly, the sound of soft footsteps broke through his concentration. As the humans would say, 'speak of the devil.' The pattern of the step immediately told him it was _her_. There was no hesitation of step, no stumbling, no tripping, no pausing. There was purpose in those steps and he sensed that he was that purpose. How touching.

The footsteps stopped abruptly. "I know you're there."

Her voice was unemotional, matter-of-fact. Starscream decided to humor her, for once. Slowly, the image of Stilwell materialized before Alexis, transparent at first and then slowly becoming opaque.

"What do you want?" he demanded brusquely, arms crossed over his chest. Danger seemed to cloud around him, like a dangerous, poisonous gas you couldn't see nor could you smell, but you knew was there all the same. "Is it not enough that I allow you to live tonight?"

"Who or what are you?" she asked, without preamble and ignoring his last statement. Her voice was level and steady, a stark contrast to all the former meetings they had had. He noticed she had changed outer garments. A dark blue Air Force T-shirt worn with blue jeans and tennis shoes. Smart girl.

"Why do you ask?" One dark eyebrow raised and the corner of his lip twitched up for the briefest of moments.

"Don't play me for a fool," she snapped. "We know; we both know you are not who you portray yourself to be."

"You are very bold confronting me in this fashion," Starscream growled softly, taking a step forward towards her. Surprisingly, she didn't back down; instead, she stood her ground eye-to-eye with her aggressor. This was new. By this time she would be cowering for her life before him. Where had this sudden spark of courage emanated from? He found it infuriating that she was defying him and yet…welcoming too.

"And you were very bold parading around as a famous pilot who was killed defending my country against alien invaders, or did you not think anyone would remember?"

Starscream narrowed his eyes. "Did you figure this out yourself or did your male friend do it for you?" he asked, voice as soft as a summer wind.

"I grew suspicious when I saw this," she said, poking his flight suit with an index finger. He glanced down and saw her finger dead-centered over a small, faded flight patch. "during our last meeting," she finished. "It's the squadron patch of a very famous group of pilots and your physical make-up matched their flight leader perfectly, but his personality bio and your attitude are far from being the same. Coldstone, the pilot you tried to _kill_ tonight, confirmed it for me. He knew the flight leader as did his father. He seems to believe you are one of those aliens come back to Earth and I have to say the evidence is pretty damning." She mimicked his pose, crossing her arms over her chest.

On the inside he smirked. She was finally showing her true colors. He liked this bold side of personality; in a way, it reminded him of himself. "It appears that the charade is over, does it not?"

"Look. I realize you could kill me anytime you want to, whether or not you are one of these…Cybertronians, but the fact is you haven't. You once said I was useful to you and all I want to know is why. If you are one of these things, why haven't you attacked us out right? Why the secrecy? What the hell do you need me for?"

He smirked then. "Has it not occurred to you, that some things are better left in silence?"

She broke eye contact then, glancing down at the concrete floor. She sighed. "I know."

He laughed softly. "You are bold, human. More so than any others I have met. What makes you think I won't kill you now?" He stepped even closer, inches from her body. For Alexis it was like standing next to a drafty door on the coldest night in winter. But she refused to yield and step back.

"Because my friend is watching every move you make and has thus far recorded this entire conversation."

Starscream's face darkened suddenly. _Primus damn it to the Pit_! And what was even more infuriating, he didn't have sensors or scanning systems to determine if she was bluffing or telling the truth. It was best to play it safe.

"Clever. Very clever human," he whispered into her ear. His breath was as cold as frost; it caused Alexis to shudder slightly, but she still didn't shy away.

"You had me over a barrel and now I have you—we're even. All I want to know is who or what are you and why you are here."

"How do I know you won't betray me to your superiors?"

"How do I know you won't kill me or my squadron?" Alexis countered. She sighed again. "Look, you're still here. That tells me you still have unfinished business to attend to." She suddenly changed tactics. "Why are you cursed?"

He drew back with surprise, but then he quickly regained himself. So _she_ had paid attention to his reply. He could explain, but did he really want to? Would she understand? Why was he even bothering!?

"Your pathetic organic mind couldn't possibly comprehend my existence."

"Try me," she challenged.

His eyes darkened to a bloody maroon and his muscles tensed and twitched. "Let me tell you something, fleshling," he hissed, bringing his face inches from hers. "There are some fates in this universe that even death itself flees from their faces. Your pathetic lives are so brief, like a spark on the wind. You and your race have yet to comprehend the full meaning of mortality. Do you know what it feels like to live on after you've been terminated—a shadow of your former self? I can't feel, I can't smell or taste." He reached a hand out and traced the outline of her shoulder. Surprisingly, she didn't flinch from the chilly touch. Once again he wondered what her flesh would feel like. Would it be as soft and smooth as it looked? His ruby eyes bored into her emerald depths. "I watch you pathetic humans everyday as you take for granted the life you have been given. I want only to live again and your machine is my portal back to the life I once knew."

"So you _are_ a ghost?" she whispered, meeting his gaze with eyes unblinking.

"I am."

"Whose ghost are you then?"

He smirked. "You don't want to know."

"I'm flying with the ghost of an alien, a ghost that has the capacity to take over my aircraft on a whim. Don't you think I'm entitled to know?" she huffed, cocking her head to the side.

"No."

"So what would you do if we take this tape to our higher-ups?" she countered.

He cocked an eyebrow and his eyes flashed dangerously. "You know what would happen. How many more people do you want to be responsible for?" he hissed softly. She dropped her head and bit her lower lip. Ah, a weakness! "Can you handle it?" he pressed.

An image of a smiling Scotty flashed through her thoughts. She tried her best to hide the solitary tear that threatened to drip down her cheek. She started to reach her hand up to wipe it away, but she froze. A wintry pale hand brushed her cheek, wiping the tear away. Starscream briefly examined the small droplet of water before whisking it away; his lips curved upward in that all-too familiar smirk.

"I didn't think so. Blackmail is a dangerous game to play, Alexis O'Conner. If you want to win, you cannot allow your feelings for others to influence your decisions; for as soon as you do, you will surely lose."

Alexis sighed with defeat. "Please. I just don't want anyone else getting hurt."

Starscream placed both hands on her shoulders. He gripped her firmly, but not enough to cause her undue discomfort. "Then just do as I say. Is that such a hard concept to grasp?"

"But how will I know you won't hurt others once you…come back so to speak?"

He chuckled darkly. He moved one hand over to her chin and lifted it with a finger. "You don't. But rest assured there _will_ _be_ casualties if you or your male counterpart interferes. Now then, do you not have a briefing in a few Earth hours?"

She nodded her head, dislodging his touch.

"Hmmmm. I would like to know more of this upcoming mission; after all, we will be flying together, now won't we? I will be visiting you later tomorrow." He released her and then turned to walk back to the jet. Just before he faded from sight he turned to face her once more. "Your counterpart, do you trust him?" Starscream questioned.

Alexis immediately knew what the ghost was asking. "Yes. He's under orders to not tell anyone, unless someone gets hurt."

"Then the burden of responsibility still lies with you, doesn't it Alexis O'Conner? I'll be seeing you soon." Once again he quickly faded from sight, that arrogant smirk still on his pale, ghostly face.

_Too soon,_ Alexis thought morosely as she turned and walked out of the hangar. That had gone better than expected. When she had first stepped foot in the hangar she fully expected to be attacked or harassed or at least have something happen that would be detrimental to her health. He had violated her personal space with his proximity and it left her feeling more than a little flustered. The fact that he was an alien was shocking enough, but to be the ghost of one? She barely believed that people, humans, had ghosts, let alone aliens. It was mind-boggling in and of itself. Well, at least now she knew. But the question still remained--who were they dealing with?

A voice haled her, pulling her from her thoughts. It was Coldstone. He jogged up next to her concern evident on his face. Together the two pilots walked back to the barracks and Alexis filled him in on all that had transpired.


	8. Touch of a Demon

**A/N: Yay! Another chapter. I is proud of myself! I hope you guys like and as I promised—a little action to whet your appetites! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 8: The Touch of a Demon**

The next morning found Alexis, Coldstone and crew in the flight room anxiously awaiting their mission debriefing. Besides herself, Coldstone, the fair-haired, blue-eyed Scorch, and Tomcat, there were 12 other pilots in Alexis's squadron. Sitting in the front row were Tex, TP, Coldcock, DOTAL, EVAC, and Lefty. Tex was the strong, silent type and as one could guess, hailed originally from Texas. He had a deep voice akin to Sam Elliot and when he wasn't in a flight suit, you could find him in blue jeans and a cowboy hat. TP, was a brown-haired, brown eyed young lieutenant fresh out of UPT. He got his call sign early when a foiled attempt to toilet paper a rival's car ended in him getting caught and arrested, about midway through training, hence the name "TP." He wasn't overly fond of it, but he had little choice but to accept that his little act of stupidity would follow him probably until the day he died. Coldcock was a first lieutenant who had a penchant for bar fighting; in all honesty it was amazing the surly young man had made it this far in the Air Force. Rumor had it he once hopped through 15 bars in one night and was thrown out of every single one of them. DOTAL was a smiling, happy-go-lucky sort; unfortunately he had a lazy streak about a mile wide, hence the name Do-Over; Try-Again-Later. EVAC was unique. One would think his name had something to do with medical procedures; but that was only half the story, especially when he was on the receiving end of said procedures. Truth be told, EVAC had a run-in with an ambulance—literally. He cost the county a $119,000 medical vehicle and from there on out was officially known as Emergency-Vehicle-Accident-Collision; EVAC for short. Fortunately, the ambulance wasn't on call at the time. Lefty seemed to be the only man in the squadron whose name didn't have a double meaning; he was also the most newly named member of the team, being the only left-handed member of the squadron made Lefty Callaghan something of a rarity.

In the next row sat Tic-Tac, Checkers, Shots, Shortstop, Lobo, and Ragweed. Tic-Tac seemed to be the resident breath mint dispenser; that man was never without his little white breath mints and frankly, had saved many a date with his swift intervention. Tic-Tac was the best wingman a pilot could ask for, as far as women were concerned. As for Checkers, he used to race cars back in high school and had many a trophy to show for it. Shots was the best drinker of the bunch; he could drink a fifth of Jack like it was a bottle of water and keep on trucking. Shortstop never was good at driving a car and some (most actually) think he's not much better off in a jet. It seemed as if every time 'Stopper brought his jet to the hangar, and holding true to his name, he stopped the jet a minimum of 10 feet from his designated parking spot; rumor had it he wasn't much better at parallel parking either. Lobo was the loner. He kept to himself mainly and never spoke unless spoken to, but put that man in the middle of an engagement and he became as fierce as his namesake. Loner though he was, Lobo often traveled with Coldcock and he was usually within hailing distance should a need arrive. And finally, there was Ragweed. Like Coldstone and TP, Ragweed was a fresh graduate out of flight school. His shock of bright, blonde hair and his habit of continuously showing up when you least wanted him to, earned him his callsign of Ragweed. The funny thing was, Ragweed was the type of person that never realized when he wasn't wanted, but for the most part his wingmates tolerated him better than his classmates did and his annoying habit was often overlooked.

To finish off the gathered pilots of the 42nd Fighter Squadron, Coldstone, Spades, and Scorch sat in the last row. Tomcat had yet to return from her overnight mission and would be debriefed before leaving for home base. The officers sat and whispered amongst themselves, hypothesizing the various reasons for why they were assembled for this mission briefing. Theories ran from the very serious to the very absurd, some garnered many laughs and guffaws while others were regarded with a moment of silence. At first the atmosphere in the room appeared calm and relaxed; several of the young men sat slouched in their seats, softly laughing amongst themselves while exchanging jokes, stories and theories. But to a trained eye or a very perceptive one, you could feel and see the undercurrent of excitement zipping around the room. It was the glint in the young pilots' eyes, or the restless shuffle of a body as someone tried to find a more comfortable position. Beneath all the jokes and the laughs, these men were anxiously awaiting what they had been training for years to do and in many respects had dreamed of doing.

Finally a door clicked open and the mutterings and snickers of the pilots died down almost immediately. Several of the young men straightened in their seats, eyes focused forward as their Wing Commander strode to the front of the room. Colonel Dwight Everett Brandingson had served in the Air Force for almost 23 long, fulfilling years. He was a man that loved his country, loved his men and valued his pilots. The best thing Col. Brandingson loved about his job was giving young men and women, like what was sitting before him, a sense of direction and purpose. He enjoyed molding young officers into calm, poised, professionals and giving them the best foundation he could to make it in the Air Force. But as the Colonel was preparing to brief his men on this morning, he couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy and just a little edgy. This mission wasn't for young bucks straight out of flight training, but with the youngest squadron in the Force, he had little choice but to follow through and hope and pray for the best.

Colonel Brandingson stopped at the head of the room and slapped a manila folder onto the pedestal before him. He sighed heavily and stared out into the small pool of faces that had so recently begun to weigh heavily on his mind. There was nothing left to do, but get the briefing underway; he cleared his throat to ensure he had everyone's attention.

"As you all are well aware, you are about to undertake a very important mission beginning at 0600 tomorrow morning. This briefing is to inform you of the nature of your mission and the goals required to be fulfilled." The colonel looked from face to face, meeting each pilot's eyes with a somber expression. This may very well be the last time he would see any of them together like this and it gave the older man a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "We have received reports of Unidentified Flying Aircraft appearing in the military testing zones approximately 150 miles north of this location. Now then, at this point in time, no country is claiming these aircraft, but we all know that doesn't mean jack-shit these days. Your mission," he said pointing at the pilots, "will be to scout our Military Aircraft Testing Zones, find and identify the UFOs, and if necessary engage them, but only if necessary. We can't afford to spark-off an international crisis. Are we clear on what needs to be done?"

The colonel's tired blue eyes scoured the crowd as silence continued to reign within the room. "Good," the colonel replied, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "Captain O'Conner."

Alexis looked up from her notes, an expectant stare leveled at her commander.

"You will be the flight lead for this mission. Take your men and divide them up into four flights of four to scout the terrain. If you encounter hostile action, engage in evasive maneuvers and stand by; am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," Spades replied quickly.

"The rest of you?" The rest of the pilots chorused Alexis's reply.

"Good. You will have the rest of today to prepare your birds and crew. Don't treat this mission lightly, lady and gentlemen. I don't have to tell you that tensions with other countries have been tight. Use your head and don't do anything stupid." Colonel Brandingson gave one sharp nod with his head. As one the 16 pilots stood and saluted, eyes sharp and focused. "Good luck and God bless America. Dismissed."

The colonel did an abrupt about-face and left the room, quickly followed by two of his aides, leaving the pilots to their own devices.

"Whooo-hooo! Hot _damn! _Finally some action around here!" DOTAL crowed, giving Lobo a friendly slap on the shoulder. The subdued pilot glared briefly, but allowed a tiny smile to crease the corners of his mouth. The room was abuzz with chatter as the men discussed the mission and who the potential culprits could be. All were looking forward to getting up in the air and doing what they had signed up for. Slowly everyone began to file out of the flight room to tend to their different duties and to prepare for the day to come.

Alexis was the only one not totally engaged in the conversations of her fellow wingmen and Coldstone had a strong suspicion he knew why. He absolutely abhorred the fact his fellow pilot was being coerced into flying with a malevolent being from another planet. And considering his family history with said malevolent beings he didn't like the idea of keeping his trap shut either. Alexis was convinced that their otherworldly visitor wasn't quite seeking the destruction of their world, although she didn't doubt it would be on his dossier at some point in time. At this point, she was very much interested in discovering just _who_ he was and content with ignoring _what_ he was. He on the other hand, not so much. He knew all too well what a Decepticon was capable of and having the ghost of one (as absurd as that sounded) hang around wasn't much better off either. If their visitor had been the real deal, this wouldn't even be an issue. The Con would have been tagged, bagged and carted off to be smelted into match box cars, but as it stood, he just didn't have the evidence and couldn't go around making wild accusations about haunted jets and such. He wasn't the most well-liked pilot in the squadron anyways; the last thing he needed was to give them an excuse to ride him out of the squadron on charges of insanity. So, it appeared Coldstone's hands were tied, until he either A) caught the son-of-a-bitch on tape, red-handed or B) he appeared to someone else besides Alexis and himself and _they_ caught him red-handed; neither option looked promising at this point.

"You gonna be fine with this?" he asked, walking up alongside the captain. She glanced up at him, worry evident in her eyes despite the smile on her lips.

"Does it look like I have choice?"

He gave her a look.

"I've told you, Stoner; I can handle this and if anyone is gonna get hurt, it's gonna be me."

"Well, you already know how I feel about this—"

"Duly noted and appreciated," she interrupted, stopping and turning to face him. "But until we can get some hard-core evidence, neither one of us can do anything, so let's play it by ear and stay on our toes, OK?"

"Fine, but when we split into our scout groups I want me, Scorch and Tomcat to be in your group."

Alexis pursed her lips, thinking it over. "All right. If there is any sign of trouble, you'll be the first to know. Satisfied?"

He grinned and they continued on their way to the hangar. "Hardly, but what choice do I have, _Captain?"_Crowbar hadn't seen the hangar abuzz with so much life in weeks. It was refreshing in its own harried, chaotic way, a break from the slow and mundane routine he and his crew had slumped into over the past weeks. He was a man that loved to stay busy, especially when jets were involved. Crews were scurrying around like ants at a picnic, cleaning the fuselages, canopies and loading weapons and ammunition onto the various jets parked within. The hangar was practically humming with life and anticipation electrified the air, catching everyone up into a frenzy of activity.

* * *

With clipboard in hand, the staff sergeant dove headlong into the fray, ensuring system checks were performed, weapons were being handled properly, the avionics were in tip-top working order and generally speaking, making sure everyone was doing their job. Oh, what he would give for a cold one now.

As he approached the leading edge of the left wing, the crew chief gently slid his clip board on the top and began to inspect the underside of the wing. He wanted to ensure that there were no stress fractures or pits in the metal; when it came to the precision killing machine that was the F-15 Eagle, one could never check too much, especially for a mission such as this when anything could happen.

A very faint scraping sound drew the old crew chief's attention. He paused in his inspection, brow furrowed with mild irritation. Still crouched he waddled out from under the wing, stood up and glanced across the wing. At first, he didn't notice anything out of place—until his eyes fell on the spot where his clipboard had been. It now rested on the opposite side of the wing, closer to the trailing edge. Crow glanced around to see if anyone was nearby. Airman Tommy Harper was sitting in the cockpit, but other than him, no one else was around. Casting the airman a dirty look, Crowbar shook his head and returned to his inspection. Not five seconds after resuming his work, Crow heard the scraping sound again. This time, he hurriedly ducked out from under the wing and stared at the top. The clipboard was once again, sitting innocently on the leading edge as if it had never been moved. Crowbar scratched his head in puzzlement and swore under his breath. Someone was playing tricks on him.

"Something wrong, Crow?"

"You would know, wouldn't you, ya smartass?" Crowbar retorted sourly.

"What!? What in the hell did I do to you!?" Tommy Harper yelped, utter confusion adorning his face.

"Moving my clipboard, that's what in the hell you did to me! Damn it, Harper! Now is not the time to be bullshitting around!"

"But I—"

"How's it coming, Crow!?" Alexis hollered over the din in the hangar, and unintentionally ending the confrontation.

"Spades! Son of a bitch! About time you showed up!" The harried crew chief replied as he hustled up next to her, the mysteriously moving clipboard temporarily forgotten.

"Everything checking out?" she inquired, green eyes studying her bird.

"This bird couldn't be in better shape if she was brought straight from the factory," he answered. "It's kind of funny actually. I don't know who's been working overtime, but even the little dings on the fuselage and the paint chips have been repaired. Wiring looks brand new and there's not a speck of dirt on the thing—so clean you could eat off it, if you really wanted to."

"Really?" Alexis said, quirking an eyebrow in the jet's direction. _Looks like my partner has been doing some repair work in his off-time, _she thought wryly. It really wasn't that far of a stretch for her to imagine him somehow, someway repairing the bird, especially since he seemed to be able to take control of her flight systems at will. It made her wonder just how much further he had to go before he would be able to fully take control of her jet and her usefulness would end. Time was growing short and the playing field was getting more and more dangerous with each passing day and with the ball in the ghost's court, Alexis didn't know if she would be able to win this match or not. "Well, when this mission is up remind me to buy you guys a few cases of beer for a job well-done," she finished easily, punching the older man playfully on the arm.

"Now, Captain, you know better than to make an offer like that," Crowbar smirked. "You might as well just buy us a round down at Sally's."

Alexis grinned. "You're on, _but_ one round only."

Crowbar gave his pilot a friendly pat on the shoulder before hurrying off to oversee the finishing touches on the jet. Alexis watched him leave wondering all the while if she would really be able to fulfill that obligation. She wasn't so much concerned with the potential enemy forces as she was flying with the enemy that held her within an iron grip. Quite literally, her life and even those of her wingmen were in the ghost's transparent hands. Was it right for her to compromise the safety of her men this way? Would they be safe anyway, even if she did report her ethereal fiend? More than likely not. She sighed heavily; she hated having her back to a corner. She turned and left the hangar, fortunately missing Crowbar's cussing fit as he searched uselessly for a vanished clipboard.

* * *

The sun was setting quickly, casting the sky ablaze with streaks of red, orange, purple and blue. It promised to be a beautiful day the next day, but Alexis' heart just wasn't into enjoying the beauty around her. She walked casually between the buildings and through the hangars, half of her dreading to confront the demon that had so plagued her for many days; the other half of her morbidly curious as to how this meeting would turn out. Each and every time they had a meeting it usually ended in violence. Alexis had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that one evening their meeting would end in a fatality.

"A penny for your thoughts, as you humans would say," a cold, chilly voice hissed into her ear.

Startled, Alexis jumped and whirled around coming face to face with her ghostly co-pilot. "You!" she whispered fiercely, feeling the color slowly begin to creep back into her face.

"Who else would it be my dear fleshling?" Stilwell crooned softly, a barely audible sharp undertone in his words. "You weren't expecting that weakling of a wingmate now were you?" he murmured, a sly smile toying on his thin lips. He slowly began to circle her, like a great hawk waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Evening shadows danced across his countenance, making the ghost seem more ominous than before. It looked as if pieces of his face would flicker in and out of visualization.

She swallowed nervously. Deciding to ignore his slur on her wingman, Alexis jumped right to the point. "I've come to tell you about our mission tomorrow," she stated evenly, trying her best to maintain a level tone of voice and not let the fear beginning to build in her stomach creep into her words.

"Have you now?" he said softly, still circling, still staring, studying her like a butcher eyeing a piece of fine beef.

"Yes."

"And what of it?"

"_WOULD YOU PLEASE STOP IT!" _Alexis shouted, her back rigid and fists clenched. "You're making me nervous for Pete's sake!"

"That's. The whole. Point," he sneered wickedly, enjoying her discomfort and distress. But he decided to stop, if only to appease her and learn of the events of the morrow. He paused in his circling just shy of her left shoulder. Alexis daren't to turn and look at him, fearing that the slightest movement might cause him to spring upon her. She cleared her throat uneasily.

"We're going on a scouting mission. Four flights of four to cover all directions in the designated military flight testing zone about 100 miles north of here." She continued to watch him warily from the corner of her eye.

"And what exactly are we scouting?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. He also crossed his arms over his chest.

"We're not exactly sure. We've received reports of unidentified aircraft; they want us to try and identify and if necessary, engage."

Stilwell gave a non-committal grunt before responding. "We shall see. And who, Captain, shall be in your flight?"

"Scorch, Tomcat and…Coldstone," she replied softly, still holding her chin high and maintaining her rigid posture. The ghost chuckled softly. "How _noble_," he sneered, "that your friend feels the desire to protect you from the big, bad ghost of a Decepticon, considering there is nothing either of you can do."

Stilwell crept closer and very carefully traced a cold, lifeless finger over her cheek, across her shoulder and down her arm. She shivered involuntarily not only from the cold but also from something else. It almost felt—enjoyable. She mentally slapped herself for such a horrid, repulsive thought. Whoever this…this Decepticon was, he had tried to kill her, was trying to build himself back into existence using _her_ jet and would probably destroy everyone, including herself, once that goal was completed. And she found herself _enjoying_ his touch? It almost made her vomit just thinking about it.

Unfortunately, her reaction hadn't gone unnoticed. Stilwell walked around behind her and traced a finger down her spinal column—light, feathery, almost playfully. He watched her cringe and shiver once more. Small goosebumps began to prickle her arms and neck. Oh, how he enjoyed teasing her so! It was so wonderful watching the fear reflect in her actions! Watching her tremble and shiver beneath his touch! Perhaps maybe…just maybe when he finished completing his body he would spare her in his destructive quest to reclaim all that was his. She would provide amusement in the least. He stepped directly behind her and tilted his neck until his lips were barely brushing the soft, white flesh of her neck.

"You know you enjoy it."

He clapped a hand to her shoulder, imagining what the flesh would feel like under his palm, but his musings were short lived. Alexis abruptly yanked her shoulder from his grip and strode off, her back still ramrod straight, chin still high in the air. He grinned sinisterly. She was weakening. Slowly, very slowly he faded from sight, blending into the shadows and dissipating into oblivion.

* * *

At 0600 sharp, 15 steel grey Eagles were lining up on the runway, engines hot with anticipation. The cool, morning air rippled with the heat waves as the turkey-fan exhausts flexed open and closed, the pilots running last minute tests before take-off. Flights crews eagerly stood behind the flight lines anxious to wave their comrades off.

Minutes later, 15 birds of war were screaming skyward, neatly divided into four wedge-shaped flight groups. Helmeted visors glinted in the early morning sunlight and sharp refractions of light shimmered across the golden canopies. Wisps of clouds streaked by the wings only to mingle with the sharp wind vortices trailing from the wingtips of each plane. It was a fearsome sight to behold.

"_OK. Here we go. DOTAL, EVAC, Lobo and Shots, you four cover the western quadrant. Shortstop, Ragweed, Coldcock, and TP, I want you guys in the southern quad. Tex, Lefty, Tic-Tac and Checkers, you four cover the eastern quad and the rest of us will get the north. Tomcat is going to meet us en-route. If you see anything, radio back immediately. Happy hunting guys!" _Alexis finished in a chipper voice.

"_Roger that."_

"_Copy."_

"_Affirmative."_

Each voice toned in. Each mini-flight had an aforesigned sub-leader. Like a choreographed dance each set of jets peeled away from each other simultaneously, each group heading into their designated direction. Alexis and her team quickly made their way north; dry uninhabited desert dominating the terrain below them, but Alexis's eyes were not on the desert floor below. They were focused on the sky ahead, scouring the blue expanse for any spec that didn't look quite right. The three pilots maintained radio silence throughout their search; there really wasn't much to say. Even the ghost had refrained from giving snappy, sarcastic retorts. In fact, he had not uttered a word that morning and even more strange, he had yet to take control of the jet. She was curious as to his silence, but at the same time reluctant to break it.

She was still more than a little unnerved from last evening. _That touch…S_o cold, like an ice cube being trailed across her flesh, yet she felt so much more—longing, power, even tenderness. It left her feeling confused and even creeped out. Angrily she shook her head to clear her thoughts; now was not the time to dawdle or daydream.

They flew for almost an hour with nary a cactus or cloud out of place. Alexis was almost beginning to believe it would be a fruitless mission when suddenly her radio crackled to life with Coldstone's voice.

"_Eagle Bravo to Eagle Alfa, over."_

"_Eagle Alfa, I read you loud and clear, over."_

"_Incoming bogies at ten o'clock, however they're not showing up on radar."_

"_Affirmative. Notify the other flights and then stand by." _

"_Roger that." _

Alexis switched radio frequencies to an all-broadcast frequency in order to hail the unidentified aircraft. _"Unidentified Aircraft, you are in restricted US airspace. Identify yourself immediately, over."_

She waited for a few seconds, but never received a reply. She repeated the hail. Loud static filtered over her earphones and still no reply. By this time the two bogies were entering a clearer visual range. They were still continuing on their flight path, wingtip to wingtip, never deviating, never slowing. So far, neither aircraft had showed signs of hostility, but Alexis knew that could all change in an instant. As the aircraft streaked by less than a quarter mile away, she gasped softly. Both jets were Su-27 Flankers, Russian jets, but both lacked any national denomination or a familiar paint scheme.

"What do they look like?"

Alexis stared in surprise at the console; she had almost forgotten about her ghostly tag-a-long. "They're Su-27 Flankers, no country and unfamiliar paint schemes. One is a dark blue with black tailfins and gold stripes on the wings and verticals. The other appears to be maroon, with black and silver highlights in the same fashion." She heard him hiss violently. "What? What is it?"

"Disengage the enemy."

"What!? We can't do that! Why—" But the ghost cut her off.

"If you and your wingmates want to live, disengage these two jets, _now!"_ he snarled. Before Starscream could continue, the radio erupted into a slur of static and warbles.

"_Can't contact base! I can't see! Oh, God why am I trapped in here!? What in the f—"_

"That was Scorch," Alexis barked anxiously, "but, my God, he sounded…"

"Afraid?" The ghost interrupted. "Disillusioned? Terrified even? It has already begun. Leave them at once! Give the order to retreat or you and your men will perish!" he screeched.

"Why!? Why should I trust you!?" she shouted back, all the while feeling a deep, bubbling anxiety beginning to creep into her thoughts.

"Because if you don't, none of you will live to see another day! That's why!"

The unidentified jets continued to fly onward; they appeared to have never even taken notice of the flight of US jets on their six. Although they had not shown any sign of hostility, their behavior was very odd.

The radio once again warbled and clicked with static. Hard to hear phrases were slowly seeping across the line. Unintelligible mumblings and murmurs were becoming heard more and more often. She even heard Coldstone mumble and whimper about the possibility of snakes in the floor boards. Something was wrong, terribly, terribly wrong. On either side her wingmen were beginning to wobble and break formation. Their worried anxieties were becoming shriller; their voices were cracking with strain and much of their fears were irrational hallucinations. These guys were seasoned pilots; fear of the unknown should not even be playing a factor right now. What in the hell was going on!? She shook her head once more; she knew what she had to do but taking that action was slowly beginning to feel like trudging through a Louisiana bog—slow, befuddled, disorienting. She wanted to speak out, to reassure them, but she couldn't put thought into cognitive words. A dark mist seemed to be settling across her mind, enveloping her, constricting her, like a hand around her throat—tightening—squeezing…slower and slower. Darkness turned into water and she felt herself sinking from the surface, trapped, no escape and air quickly running out. She heard a voice calling her name, but it was muffled, distant and far from reach. Light danced across the surface of the water and she felt herself plummeting farther and farther from its reach. The dark water slowly choked her off, slowly it drowned…her. As she sank further and further the last thing she saw was a pair of red eyes boring into her own—mocking and triumphant. It was too much. She screamed, the last bubbles of air escaping her mouth and the suffocating blackness consuming her within its dark maw.

* * *

"_Eagle Delta to Eagle Alfa. Dammit! Come in Alfa!... Come in!....Spades do you hear me!? Over!"_

The squealing tones and warbling chatter of the radio slowly broke into her conscious mind. It was still dark and the voice sounded familiar yet far away.

_TAP! TAP! TAP!_

Her eyes instantly darted open and were immediately blinded by the glare of the desert sunlight. She looked around wildly for the source of the sharp rapping and found Coldstone and Scorch both knocking on the glass, trying to get her to open the canopy. With a clumsy movement she obliged, feeling a sharp blast of hot, sand-filled wind rip into her flight suit as she did so.

"Spades! Are you all right!?" Coldstone demanded, helping his flight leader from the cockpit. She stood shakily, unsure of whether to trust her feet or not. Carefully, Scorch and Coldstone helped her from her seat and guided her down to sit on the edge of the wing. She felt as if she were recovering from a particularly nasty hangover. Her head pounded mercilessly and she just knew that at any moment she was going to start dry heaving.

"What…happened?" she croaked.

"We…don't know exactly," Scorch offered, scratching at his head nervously. The radio crackled to life once more and Alexis immediately recognized Clarissa's panicky voice. Scorch leaped into action and leaned down and grabbed Alexis's helmet. Funny, she didn't remember taking it off.

"_This is Eagle Echo to Eagle Delta, over."_

"_Scorch!? Oh, my God! Where's Spades!? What's her status!?"_

"_Spades is all right. We all are. A little shaken but we'll live. We need you to return to the Eagle's nest with these coordinates. The chicks have fallen from the nest. I repeat the chicks have fallen from the nest."_

There was a period of silence before she replied. "_Copy that, Eagle Echo. You guys take care, OK? I'll be back as soon I can. Eagle Delta, out."_

"She's radioing for help and returning to base. Hopefully they'll get here soon," Scorch said, tossing the helmet back into the cockpit. Alexis looked up and for the first time actually took notice of her surroundings. They were on a very old, abandoned runway; so old in fact, that the desert had reclaimed much of it. One or two large outbuildings stood like silent sentinels off to the side, boards missing from their walls in irregular intervals. It reminded her of a prize fighter that had just had a few of his teeth knocked out. Just how in the hell had they gotten here? And for that matter where exactly was here? She was intimately familiar with all the maps of the northern military testing zone; she didn't recall an abandoned runway being on any of them.

"How long have I been out?" she asked, looking from one man to the other.

"Couldn't have been very long, Spades. You brought us here. You told us to follow your lead, we did and by the time we finished with shut-down procedures you were out like a blown light bulb," Scorch explained. He threw a glance to Coldstone who nodded his head in confirmation.

"We owe our lives to you, Captain. If you hadn't had gotten us out of there, we'd have augured in for sure. Thanks, Spades," Coldstone said gravely, patting her shoulder lightly. Genuine gratitude shone in his eyes and she thought she even detected just a hint of moisture.

"Yeah, thanks Spades. I'll be sure to let everyone know what you did today," Scorch added. He looked around nervously. "Wind's picking up; we better get into what little shelter we have. SAR team should be here anytime."

"Yeah, good idea," Coldstone agreed. Together the two pilots helped their captain off the wing and the three shakily made their way across the sand-strewn runway to the smallest building on the right. It wasn't much, but it did afford the three some shelter from the biting desert wind and searing heat. They were all still in shock over their ordeal and none of them could fully comprehend what exactly had taken place. In the back of their minds they silently prayed that the two mysterious jets would not return to find them.

Alexis's mind was spinning with the words of her comrades. They had said _she _led them out of that bizarre twilight zone, but she didn't remember anything past feeling as if she were drowning within her own cockpit. Drowning…It had always been her worst fear, especially being entrapped in a vehicle or container of some sort. What had happened? And how did they get here? Where in the hell was here? Her mind ached with the thought of it all. Something strange had taken place out there, something unprecedented; and as Alexis's eyes wandered out the door to finally rest on the sand-blurred image of her jet, she had a sinking suspicion as to who would know exactly what had taken place.

**A/N: Any theories as to what exactly happened? XD!**


	9. The Return of Starscream

**A/N: It's the chapter you all've been waiting for! I give you the Reveal! Please enjoy!**

**Chapter 9: The Return of Starscream**

"I'm going to step outside," Alexis announced suddenly, breaking the thick silence that had enveloped the three pilots for the past four hours. Outside the wind still howled like a fierce banshee; sand and dust were her punishments for any who dared to venture into her realm.

Coldstone looked up and gave her a critical stare, suspicion running deep in his light green eyes. However, he seemed to understand her motives for doing so and nodded his head in understanding. Scorch was sleeping fitfully beside Coldstone, so Alexis wasn't worried about him discovering their secret.

"I'll be watching you," Stoner mouthed and gestured quietly, giving her a pointed stare to emphasize his point.

She glared in return and rolled her eyes. Honestly, she already had two parents; she really didn't want a third. She climbed to her feet, rocking unsteadily as her stiff, cramped muscles protested the sudden movement. Once she was certain she wasn't going to topple over face-first, she made her way slowly to the doorway, purposefully placing one foot before the other. The wind whipped at her flight suit and sand stung her face as she walked across the abandoned tarmac to her jet. It sat there innocently enough; she could hear tiny metallic _pings_ as larger bits of sand deflected against the plane's smooth, metal skin. Alexis slowly stalked around to the far side of the jet and laid her hands questioningly on its fuselage. She glanced up at the empty cockpit and stared into its empty depths for several long seconds. Still nothing occurred. With a tired sigh Alexis reached up to the nape of her neck and slowly undid her hair, allowing the chocolate brown locks to fall prey to the whims of the desert wind. Finally she said, "You need not fear about further discovery. Scorch is sleeping and Coldstone is keeping an eye on things back in the hangar."

She waited for another long moment to see if there would be any reply. After almost five minutes of nothing but the whistling wind for company, Alexis decided to give up; the ghost was not going to show. With a frustrated sigh she turned to walk back to the hangar, taking a step towards the jet's aft side. She suddenly felt a strong grip on her shoulder, making her pause in her step. With slow deliberation Alexis turned her head and met Stilwell's unwavering stare. She turned around on her own accord, green orbs filled with question. It was then she noticed something peculiar—the hand that still rested on her shoulder did not feel as if it had been carved from ice. It felt, oddly enough, normal. Her brow furrowed with puzzlement as they continued to stare into one another's eyes. Finally, Stilwell broke the silence, his voice barely a whisper above the whistling of the wind.

"I suppose you desire to know what occurred not too long ago—Why you are still alive, when you should be dead," he rasped. Alexis nodded her head mutely, still enthralled by the warm touch of his hand on her shoulder.

"You were overcome by your worst fears, were you not?" he asked, squeezing her shoulder gently. Her eyes widened and once gain she nodded.

"Yes, I felt…I felt as if I were drowning even though I knew deep in my mind that it was absurd. The others…they were yelling, panicked…and I knew I had to do something…but I couldn't bring myself to react," she stuttered vehemently, a rare show of angst threatening to overwhelm her normally stoic composure. Her eyes glistened with tears, giving the already deep green depths more jewel-like appeal. Alexis couldn't help but feel that she had almost cost her team their lives; her inaction, her moment of weakness had almost killed them all and yet Coldstone and Scorch both had said had it not been for her, they wouldn't be alive. What in the hell had happened?

Starscream studied the human before him. Her eyes were absolutely dazzling, even as they were filled with confusion. He knew she had sensed the change within him; he had noticed it as soon as he touched her. He could actually _feel_ the muscles of her shoulder tense and flex under his touch. He never thought in a million vorns he would actually be thinking this, but _Primus she felt so good_! He couldn't help but think what her actual flesh would feel like, lying bare without coverings. His returning sense of touch could mean only one thing: his newly rebuilt body was very nearly finished. But now was not the time for that reveal. He was slowly coaxing her in, whether she realized it or not. She was beginning to trust him, to let her guard down, just as he wanted—and it would be her undoing. He knew exactly what had taken place up in the skies over the desert and now…She. Owed. Him.

"There was nothing you could have done," he stated matter-of-factly, placing his other hand on her shoulder, secretly savoring the her feel while staring straight into her eyes. "There was no way possible you would have been able to win that fight."

"What happened? Who were they?" she asked, unable to look away from his burning stare. His eyes had always fascinated her before; they were such a rich shade of _scarlet_, but now she felt absolutely mesmerized.

"Enemies. Enemies of old that are not of this planet."

"Were they…," she paused, hesitating, "Were they Decepticons?" she whispered as if saying the word was a curse of the most wretched kind.

He smirked ever so slightly. "Yes, they were. Their designations were Thrust and Dirge. Thrust being the maroon and white jet, while Dirge was the navy blue and gold. Dirge was the one manipulating your fears and turning them against you."

"There's more that you're not telling me," Alexis stated, her eyes slowly drying and that old, stoic resolve slowly returning to her posture. "We should not be alive right now. My wingmen tell me that _I _got them out of there, but I know that's not the case. What in the hell did you do?"

He smirked and tightened his grip on her shoulders just a tad. His eyes narrowed mischievously and an eyebrow rose with question. "Tsk. Tsk. Is that anyway to speak to someone who has just saved your life? You forget that as a ghost, I could have just allowed them to end your miserable lives. I was not obligated to save you," he whispered softly into her ear. His breath was warm and teasing on the lobe; it was such a violent contrast to how he used to feel. It left her feeling unnerved, shaky, incoherent and just plain flustered. He seemed so _tangible_, was so tangible and his proximity to her person was deeply disturbing. He was a ghost, an alien ghost at that, and impersonating a deceased officer to add insult to injury. Even though her logical mind knew _what _he was, his physical appearance belied all rational thought and sent her bodily reactions into a tailspin. This should not be happening.

"I…I'm sorry. It's just…it's just…" she stuttered, unable to pull together a coherent thought.

A warm finger brushed her lips. "Sshh. I did what needed to be done. I alone was not affected by Dirge's silent attack. Another perk to being a ghost, I suppose," he mused off-hand, before growing serious once more. There was a brief pause and then he said, "I possessed you."

"_You what!?"_ She exclaimed and tried to take a step back only to find herself firmly immobilized by his hands. "Get your hands off me!" she hissed fiercely, struggling to break free, but Stilwell merely slid both hands up her shoulders and pressed _hard _into the pressure point located within that area. The young pilot gasped at the sudden, debilitating pain shooting up into her neck and down her back. She collapsed involuntarily and had not Stilwell wrapped his arms about her waist, she would have fallen onto the cracked tarmac. In the same swift, motion he turned and pinioned her to the fuselage of the jet, still supporting the majority of her weight.

Pain and pricks of bright light swam across Alexis's brain, temporarily causing her to lose her mobility. She felt her body betray her as she went limp only to be held upright again in two very powerful, very muscular arms. The throbbing in her shoulders was a painful reminder of just what she was dealing with. "Now then, if you will be so kind as to let me finish before you begin your hysterics," he snarled softly, pressing up against her to further limit her returning mobility. Alexis shifted uncomfortably against his body, and not from any physical discomfort. Before when he had done this, it had felt like pressing against an ice box. Now, she could feel the heat radiating from his body and it was causing a very unnerving sensation to occur deep within her—one that she both liked and hated equally.

"As I was saying," he began again, "I took control of your body for two reasons—one, to allow you to crash and destroy all that I had worked so hard to achieve these past few terrestrial weeks was inconceivable, therefore saving your machine meant saving you. Two, if I had taken control of your machine while you were still comatose, it would have panicked your wingmen further, increasing the likelihood of disaster and even discovery. In that regard, taking control of your body was the only logical path of action for me to take. I remembered this airstrip's location from my previous life experiences on Earth. I thought it best to land here and allow you three to regain your senses, rather than have you wake and realize you weren't in control of your own body. It would have seemed exceptionally odd for two pilots to succumb the affects of Dirge's attacks, and not the third; do you not agree?"

"So more or less, you only saved me because you were saving yourself?"

"You catch on quick," he smirked. True, he could have wiped his hands of the whole situation and begun anew, but that would have meant starting from scratch _again_ and that just wasn't warranted when he was perfectly able to take control of the situation. But there was more to his actions than he really wanted to admit. He wasn't quite ready to "release" Alexis from his study. The human fascinated him, gave him a challenge to strive for dominion over, and now, had helped him to re-realize his mortality. Frankly the thought of losing her to the likes of Dirge and Thrust or for that matter _anyone_, infuriated him. But he wouldn't tell her that, not yet.

"How _honorable_ of you," she said scornfully, contempt and anger flashing across her face. "So how much longer, hm? How much longer until your _new_ _body_ is finished?" Alexis asked bitterly. For the first time during their conversation, she diverted her gaze, preferring instead to stare at the tarmac down close to her feet.

He grinned and looked up at the jet before him. The very last process of his return to mortality was occurring as they spoke. The vibrant desert sun was beginning to set, throwing the world around them into a firestorm of color. Dark shadows were creeping up and over the tiny facility and the wind was finally dying down. Now it playfully teased the dark strands of hair about her face. He reached up and gently brushed a few, fine strands behind her ear. Surprisingly she didn't protest the gesture. Unbeknownst to her, Starscream could see the very faint blush of color beginning to tint his air intakes. The spot of color faded and brightened from grey, to orange, to red and back again to grey, rippling like a chameleon's skin trying to blend into a variety of backdrops. The fiery desert sun was doing a fair job of camouflaging the transformation, but it was happening nonetheless. With the cover of darkness, a fair amount of self-control and a little luck, no one would be the wiser until it was too late.

"How about I show you? After your debriefing and medical check-up of course," he finished smoothly.

"Why should I trust you?" she asked, "If you're as close to being finished as you claim, what's to stop you from killing me or everyone else on base?"

"I saved you, did I not?" he countered, pressing closer. Oh, the feel of her! Firm and hard, yet so soft and tender--her shivering and flexing beneath him. It was something he had never noticed in his prior life, but his time chained to the ethereal bonds of life, had given him a new appreciation of life—beginning with her.

"You saved me in the process of saving yourself," Alexis hissed, trying her best to just melt away into the jet behind her, but to no avail. Why didn't she cry out for Coldstone? He'd put the bastard in his place! But then again, the last time the two of them went head-to-head Stilwell nearly killed him. No, she had to keep him away; she had to protect him. She could handle this…this thing. Couldn't she?

"So I did, but don't forget, little human, that you now have two hostile alien enemies to deal with. And only I can help you in that respect," he purred.

"We'll get the Autobots; they'll help us once we tell them the problem," she countered vehemently. But to her chagrin, he chuckled darkly.

"But my dear Alexis, one must be alive to speak, now don't they? Don't look at me like that," he chided, lifting her chin with a finger. She promptly yanked her face away. "I _know_ with whom you'll be dealing, far better than the Autobots ever will, my dear. Believe me when I say, you'll need me. And if you're half as intelligent as I'm inclined to give you credit for, then you already know the Autobots are more than a little lacking in the tactical aerial combat department. Trust me; I'll explain myself to you, who I am, everything, if only you'll meet with me."

Alexis bit her lower lip, brow furrowed with indecision. Why her? Why was she saddled with such a decision? Oh, yeah. A sentient, evil alien ghost had decided to possess her jet. No problem. People dealt with this kind of thing all the time! But once again, Alexis felt this tiny, minute urge to trust him. He hadn't dealt her harm yet, nor her fellow pilots, not to mention he had saved their lives, selfish ambitions aside. And although he had injured McFarland, Alexis knew that this entity could have easily killed him had the desire to do so been there. Was he just trying to lull her into a false sense of security, or was this a Decepticon's way of saying "I-need-your-help?"She also knew he wasn't telling her everything and that gnawing curiosity was slowly getting the better of her. That fleeting adage about curiosity killing the cat flashed across her mind.

It didn't help that his signals were so confusing as well! One minute he was rough, _almost_ violent with her and then just as quickly he could become tender and delicate as to how he treated her. Plus, it sounded as if he were carrying a little bit of a grudge against the two foreign jets.

"You would help us, humans, against these Decepticons even though you yourself are one?" she softly asked, once again meeting his eyes. They smoldered like hot coals as he contemplated his answer for several long drawn-out seconds.

"Living as I've had has given me a new outlook on…things. That, coupled with the memories of my death gives me a greater vehemence for _them_ than for your race at this present time. If you contact the Autobots now, they'll come and try to dismantle me without ever asking a question and your advantage against _them _disappears with _me_. By then it could be too late. The appearance of Dirge and Thrust could be a singular event, but I highly doubt it. Their appearance could foretell an even more sinister force that could be arriving very soon on this planet, if it is not already here."

Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. "What?"

"Galvatron."

Before Alexis could ask him who or what a "Galvatron" was, the ghost flickered out of existence as if he had been swept away by the wind. She then heard heavy footsteps approaching the jet and turned to see Coldstone walking around the nose of the jet.

"What the hell's going on out here?" he asked briskly, eyes searching the jet warily. "You've been out here a while; I was getting worried about you." He walked up to her, and gently took her forearms. Alexis blushed slightly at the close contact, more than a little relief washing over her at his appearance. She gave a long sigh as she tried to collect her thoughts.

"We've got problems," she stated finally.

"Tell me something I don't know," he quipped, cocking an eyebrow. "Is our ethereal friend giving you more trouble?" he asked while boldly patting the fuselage. Had he not been focused on Alexis for an answer, he would have seen the jet visibly shudder from the touch.

"No, it's worse," Alexis replied, worry evident in her tone. "The Decepticons may be returning to Earth."

* * *

After breaking the news to Stoner about the possible return of the Decepticons, Alexis spent the better part of the next twenty minutes trying to explain to him everything that Stilwell had told her. Mainly his reactions varied from absolutely furious (when she told him of her possession) to downright mistrustful as she eluded to the troubling sign Dirge and Thrust presented. In short, Coldstone really, _really _didn't like the direction in which they were headed. Having to potentially deal with Decepticons was bad enough, but having to rely on the word of one was akin to giving a bank robber the combination to the money vault. It's something that just isn't done. Needless to say it took a fair amount of begging and pleading on Alexis's part to convince Coldstone to hold-off on reporting their resident Decepticon to their superior officers.

Stilwell had made a point; if they reported him and the Autobots were brought in, they would more than likely haul him away first and ask questions later. Alexis felt that they needed more information about this whole situation before taking any sort of action just yet. So many answers lied with the ghost and all he had to tell them. If he was telling the truth, then Alexis felt her and her wingmen would be worse off in the event the ghost was eradicated. So with a great deal of reluctance, Coldstone agreed to accompany her to the hangar at the first opportunity.

It wasn't long after he agreed that the Search and Rescue party arrived to ferry the exhausted pilots and their jets back to base. Scorch had slept for the majority of their stay and was still in a sleepy stupor as they arrived back to base. Coldstone had voiced his opinion that maybe the mysterious jet's attack had affected Scorch a little more intimately than either of them and she had worriedly agreed with his theory. Much to Alexis's dismay, the jets had needed to be semi-dismantled in order to make the long trip across the desert, but she was assured, along with Coldstone and Scorch, that the machines would be reassembled upon arrival in the hangars.

The next several hours became a whirlwind of activity. She and her wingmen were hustled to the hospital for medical examinations, a short period of bed rest, and food before they were once again on the move to be debriefed.

"Don't mention the Decepticons," she whispered as her and Coldstone walked hurriedly down one of the white corridors. The doctors at the hospital had opted to keep Scorch overnight for observation; he was still very weak and on the verge of listless. He would be debriefed at a later time, probably in the privacy of his hospital room once he had sufficiently recovered.

"What? Why?" Coldstone hissed, pausing and turning to face his captain.

"Because, we don't want to open a can of worms until we have our facts straight _and_ we still need to talk to Stilwell," she hissed back.

"That's withholding valuable information, Spades! We could be court-marshaled for such an act! We can tell them what we think they are, without uncovering your 'friend' back in the hangar, if that's what you're worried about," he replied, heat making his greenish eyes flash.

"One, he's not my 'friend' and two, how do you propose that?" Alexis retorted, putting her hands on her hips.

"I have a background in Decepticons, remember? My father just happened to be killed by one? I'll just tell them I recognized the jets from the old pictures my father had," he shrugged his shoulders and began to walk off. But a sharp tug on his flight suit brought him up short.

"That won't cut it," she snapped quietly, "If there's any video footage, it will show us engaging the jets and getting close enough only to identify their paint colors. We were in no position to see their wings, which is where that logo is and the effects of their attack took us out shortly thereafter. It's hypothesizing in their eyes. Just let it go for now and I'll take the heat for anything that comes later."

"Alexis, listen to yourself! You're willing to listen to that…that _bastard_ before listening to me?! What you're doing is border line treason, Spades! You're putting your career, not to mention your life on the line, based on the _promise_ of information from a ghost of one of humanity's worst enemies. If that's not absurd, I don't know what the hell is anymore!"

"So what if it is absurd, Jerry!? We're dealing with the possible return of, and I quote 'one of humanity's worst enemies,' and the only tip we have is that ghost, which oh by the way, is probably no longer a ghost anyway."

"What do you mean by he's probably no longer a ghost?" Coldstone asked cautiously.

For the first time since they entered this conversation, Coldstone saw her intensity waver. "Well, I told you that that ghost was haunting my jet, but what I didn't tell you was that he's been rebuilding his body _using_ my jet."

"_What!?"_ he exclaimed fiercely, trying his best to refrain from shouting. "And when in the hell were you planning to tell someone!?"

"I couldn't, OK? He threatened to hurt other people if I did; the only reason you know as much as you do is because you walked in on us!"

"For Pete's sake Alexis, you make it sound as if I ruined your date!"

She blushed heatedly, partly from anger and partly from embarrassment. "What choice did I have!? You saw what he did to Scotty; I didn't want anyone else repeating that fate! What would you have done with a technopathic, Decepticon control freak stalking you everywhere you went!?"

He grew silent, but slowly pulled a hand down his face in exasperation. She had a point. It was hard enough trying to stop a normal, human stalker from intimidating a victim; it was nigh impossible to try and stop a ghost. Alexis had only been trying to protect her people and now that he thought about it, how many people would actually believe her story even if she had reported the occurrences? Oh, what a tangled web we weave…

"Look I'm sorry, Alexis. I guess we're both a little out of our league in this situation." He stepped closer and gently took her elbows, just as he had before at the abandoned airfield. He began to gently rub his hands up and down her arms and to his surprise, the captain didn't protest. They stayed like that for several long seconds, him savoring the feel of her in his arms, and her relishing in the comforting his touch provided. He pulled her closer and laid his chin on top of her head. Her dark chocolate hair smelled faintly of honeysuckle blossoms, just enough to tease his senses and stir something deep within him. "I just don't want to see you hurt," he whispered into her hair.

To his surprise, she giggled softly. "We're fighter pilots, 'Stone. We accept the possibility of getting hurt or even killed every day we don our flight suits."

He laughed softly with her, "Yeah, I reckon your right," but he quickly grew serious once more, "So we're still going to the hangar?"

At first Alexis didn't answer and Coldstone was beginning to think that she hadn't heard him. But then she replied so softly he almost didn't hear himself.

"Yes."

"So, I guess we'll finally know who our mystery guest is then, won't we?" He felt her nod and then pull away slightly.

"You do realize we could walk into that hangar and never walk out?" she queried.

"Yes ma'am, I do, but I'll be damned to Hell before I let you walk in there by yourself." And before Alexis could say anything more, Coldstone bent down and gently took her lips in his. He kissed her softly but passionately and then walked away down the hall before her mind barely had time to register what had happened.

* * *

Coldstone's kiss had definitely taken the young captain by surprise. After he had walked off, her skin tingled pleasantly from the contact and it was hard to concentrate for a few moments. But a quick shake of her head quickly pulled her back to reality. She turned on her heel and followed her fellow pilot eager to get the briefing underway and done with. When she entered the briefing room, she quickly took a seat beside Tomcat and watched as the rest of her squadron slowly began to file in.

Silence prevailed in the briefing room; the excited undercurrent that had been so prevalent several hours previous did not so much as even flicker in the eyes of the pilots. Everyone knew a serious threat had been uncovered, but only two knew just how serious the threat truly was. The briefing lasted nearly three hours and much to Alexis's surprise, Coldstone kept his mouth shut and downplayed the discovery of the two Decepticons. Officially, they were no better off now than they were before the mission was executed, other than the fact that Coldstone (along with Alexis's confirmation) told the Colonel about the use of a psychological weapon of an unknown origin. Colonel Brandingson accepted everyone's accounts of what happened and without further preamble gave the whole squadron two days off for rest and recuperation.

Everyone with the exception of two left the briefing room with the intent of sleeping the rest of the day; after all, it was almost 0300 and the squadron had been awake for almost 24 hours straight.

Alexis and Coldstone slipped quietly away from the others, intent on heading to the hangar. It was a different building than where their planes were normally kept, larger and more spacious with enclosed walls and sliding doors on either end. The two pilots deftly slipped into the construct via one of the fire escape doors, neither one willing to wrestle with the large, hangar bay doors and risking discovery. As promised, their jets had been reconstructed and now waited patiently for a rigorous post flight check. The hangar was void of human life; early morning crews wouldn't begin to file into the area until almost six, so they had plenty of time.

Their steps echoed loudly in the early morning quiet. Alexis barely noticed when Coldstone slipped his hand in hers and led her farther into the building. She didn't mind; the warmth of his hand reminded her that she now didn't have to face this alone and his presence filled her with assurance and poise. The jet in question was parked all the way at the end, tucked into the darkest corner of the building. _How appropriate,_ Alexis thought wryly, as they crept closer and closer to the Eagle. They stopped about ten feet away from the nose of the jet and waited.

A heavy silence enveloped the expansive room, but the two pilots waited patiently, hand in hand. Suddenly a disembodied laugh broke the silence, its sound dark and menacing. "How sickeningly sweet," it mocked.

Both Alexis and Coldstone glanced around, expecting to see the image of Stilwell to pop up and reveal itself, but there wasn't so much as a flicker of movement.

"Are the both of you afraid of the big, bad Decepticon in your midst?" the voice sneered.

"Shove it up your ass!" Alexis shouted heatedly, taking a step forward. "If we were afraid of you we wouldn't be in here now!"

Another dark chuckle. "Correction: if you weren't afraid of me, you would have reported me to your superiors a long time ago."

"All right come on, Spades. He's just blowin' smoke. If he's just gonna ridicule us, let's report him and we'll handle the _other _Decepticons ourselves," Coldstone said, matching the ghost's mocking voice with his own. His green eyes glinted mischievously and he turned to lead the way out of the hangar.

"Not so fast, human!" the voice snapped. "If you really believe that your pathetic Air Force can handle the Decepticons without my help, you are sadly mistaken. Your father couldn't do it and neither can you."

Alexis felt Coldstone tighten his grip on her hand before he let go and stalked forward, an angry almost murderous glow in his eyes. "What the hell is that suppose to mean!?" he snarled fiercely, fists balled tightly at his sides. Alexis tried to calm him down, but the challenge had already been thrown. He shrugged off her hand and continued to glare at the immobile jet. "Talk to me! Just what in the hell did you mean by that!? My father was one of the best pilots this world has ever seen—"

"Yes, and he was taken out by the fiercest aerial warriors this world has ever seen," the ghost mimicked snidely. "I thought you looked familiar, Lt. Jerry Stoner, and with that cocky, arrogant attitude you are your father's offspring."

The anger Coldstone felt only a moment before drained away only to be replaced by raw uncertainty, and an animal-like awareness of his surroundings. He and Alexis had walked into the hangar with the intent to control the meeting. But he slowly felt all control draining away. He began to take a step back and asked very guardedly, "How did you know my father?"

The voice began to laugh once more, only this time it grew louder and louder until the building echoed with the eerie, shrill laugh, the sound making the voice come from anywhere and everywhere at once. Suddenly the jet before them shimmered and even in the dim light of the hangar, Alexis and Coldstone could see the old, steel grey paint of the fighter ripple like water disturbed by a summer rain. As they watched in awe, a faint reddish hue began to bleed across the air intakes, growing darker and richer with each passing second. At the same time, the fuselage was lightening to a clean, brilliant silvery white. Alexis could also distinguish hints of blue farther back closer to the tail fins and then she gasped as everything began to click.

"_Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh…my…God! This CANNOT be happening!" _she breathed harshly, backpedaling quickly as panic and logic clashed within her mind. She _knew _those colors! She had seen them before in those pictures.

Beside her Coldstone must have been coming to the same conclusion for she could hear him cursing profusely. The sounds of gears shifting and hydraulics hissing filled the air and Alexis watched in sheer mesmerized terror as the jet before her, began to shift and move like a warped version of a Rubik's Cube. Within seconds, the jet had transformed itself into a towering, kneeling figure, with glowing red eyes that would have put any demon to shame. The wings of the jet arched proudly, bold red and white stripes adorning the leading edges. And an evil, wicked sneer pulled at the lips of the dark grey, nearly human face.

Coldstone had placed himself in front of Alexis arms spread wide as if to protect her. She felt her back bump against the cold steel of wall. She swallowed harshly as terror blanketed her body in a cold sweat. Slowly the giant face lowered until it was inches from their persons, a large blue hand was splayed across the floor to their right, effectively cutting off any quick means of escape. The smirk on the robot's face widened and he hissed ever so sweetly to Coldstone, "Remember me?"

**A/N: Please review, compadres!**


	10. Escalation

**A/N: I'm back! Sorry for the looonnngg wait, been really busy lately. Namely moving from WV to KS, job-hunting (and in this economy finding one is about as elusive as 16 pt. buck) and doing LOTS of PT. I apologize for any grammar/spelling errors and I hope this chapter flows smoothly for you. So enjoy dear readers and don't forget to leave a review on your way out!**

**Chapter 10: Escalation**

Alexis could only stare in wide-eyed horror at the terrifying menace before her. The scream that threatened to escape her parted lips never made it past the constricted vocal chords within her throat; she was no longer in control; the master of fear and horror controlled her body now.

She was also vaguely aware of Coldstone's body pressing against her own with such force that she was finding it difficult to breathe. She could feel him trembling uncontrollably, but whether he was shaking from fear, anger or maybe even both, she could not decide.

For what felt like an eternity, the three beings stared at one another; fear and shock on both the humans' faces while a lecherous, sneering grin slowly parted the newly re-built Seeker's face. A familiar raspy chuckle escaped the mech's lips, only this time it sounded much more resonant within the relatively tiny confines of the hangar.

"H-How? _How_ can this be possible?" Stoner whispered, more to himself than anyone else. He slipped his hand behind his body and grasped Alexis's own in a firm grip. Everything about his world had suddenly turned upside down into a maelstrom mix of violent emotions. Anger, shock, and most predominantly fear surged through his veins like flood waters through a levy. Cold, clammy sweat made his clothing stick to his skin. Of all the fantasies he had ever entertained of confronting his father's killer, this scenario never even came close. Some would call it irony, others would say it was tough luck, but for Coldstone it was one terrifying nightmare come true.

"Surprised to see me, boy?" Starscream finally spoke; clearly he was enjoying his position of authority over the humans. His optics narrowed dangerously as he waited for the pilot's response.

"But…but…Everyone said you were dead…disappeared…" Stoner stuttered almost incomprehensibly. He then turned and confronted Alexis. "You! How could you NOT tell me about this!? About _HIM_!?" he accused.

"Me…Wha-Wait just one moment here, Stoner," Alexis snapped, instantly going on the defensive. "I didn't know any more than you did! All I was able to figure out was that he was a Decepticon. You're the resident evil, giant alien robot expert here! Why do you think I opened up and told you in the first place!?"

"How could you NOT know it was him!?"

"Don't try and pin this on me, Lieu--" Alexis shouted heatedly, but was quickly cut off.

"_ENOUGH!" _Starscream snarled, angrily slamming a fist right next to the two humans. "Cease your petty bickering this instance or so help me, I'll do it for you!"

Alexis and Coldstone felt the sharp whip of the wind and the sting of powdered concrete as the fist pulverized the floor mere feet next to them. Yeah, that was going to leave a mark. How were they going to explain _that _to the superiors? Oh well, more important issues were at stake here—namely their lives. An eerie silence once again filled the hangar as the two pilots fearfully waited for whatever other surprises Starscream had in store.

The Decepticon slowly removed his hand and placed it back over his bent knee joint. Then looking pointedly at Coldstone, he continued speaking, "Your captain knew not with whom she was dealing of; that I assure you, Earth filth. If she had, neither you nor she would be standing within my presence even now." He paused briefly as if thinking of what to say next. His optics then took on a sinister, malicious glow. "Besides, I don't know why you are acting so surprised at seeing me, Jerry Stoner," Starscream said a little too innocently, "One would have thought you'd be over-joyed at finally facing your father's murderer. Are we still eager to fulfill the family vendetta--hmm?"

Coldstone looked as if he wanted to say something, but all words abandoned him in light of Starscream's penetrating stare. His face, once filled with anger and resentment, became like a blank slate. All emotion, all feeling evaporating in the presence of Starscream's debilitating stare. And then like a punctured balloon, his body visibly deflated in defeat. The arrogant, self-assured, cocky pilot she both loved and hated disappeared. Alexis watched on--part of her wanting to comfort her wingmate, but another part was holding her in place. Something told her that doing so, would only bring more humiliation and shame on him.

"I didn't think so," the Seeker hissed softly. "Just like you humans, all talk and no spinal column to back it up."

"All right. You've made your point. There's no sense in humiliating him further," Alexis spoke up suddenly, stepping forward to stand beside her wingman. Maybe giving Coldstone some physical comfort was taking it a little far, but she'd be damned before she'd let Starscream run rough-shod over him about his family. The jet's optics quickly diverted to the female pilot and met her determined, green glare. Surprisingly, she didn't shrink or cringe from his gaze like she had so many times before. Bravery or foolishness? There was such a fine line between the two. Starscream leant down, his face inches from the girl's. He was so close his optics could easily see the minute definitions of color within her irises—muted colors of emerald, yellow, and lighter greens swirling together in a beautiful mosaic. But what he sought, he did not see and it pleased him.

"I don't recall inviting your input into our conversation," he purred silkily.

"Well, I'm inviting myself into your conversation," she snapped. "Now give me one good reason why we shouldn't march straight out of here and turn you in." She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, chin raised and eyes as hard as green granite. She was done with keeping secrets. She was done hiding and cringing from him. It was time to make a stand.

Starscream laughed—a cold, mirthless laugh that caused goosebumps to race down her spine. "Go ahead, little Alexis, and see how far you can get before I stop you."

"You can't do much of anything without drawing attention to yourself. Can you transform back into your disguise and dispose of our remains before the MPs get here?"

"Touché. But let us not forget our encounter that took place earlier yesterday. You humans will need my help in discovering what Thrust and Dirge are up to. After all, I was their former Air Commander and as such I was the best Seeker within the Decepticon army. None could match my areial prowess."

Alexis looked as if she was preparing a rebuttal, but Starscream quickly beat her to the punch. "And if you're thinking about the Autobots, remember that there was a reason why they could never hold dominion over the sky. Even now without me, I doubt those buffoons could maintain air superiority."

"Your word against theirs and ours," she said, although doubt was beginning to creep into her thoughts.

"History does not lie either. So I propose this: Now that I have my body back, I feel it will only be a matter of time before the secret of my return is discovered. Therefore, I want you to tell your superiors of me."

"What!?" Alexis and Coldstone both queried. They both exchanged looks and then looked back to the Seeker.

"Why in the hell would you turn yourself in now?" Coldstone challenged, speaking for the first time in a long while.

"Who says I'm turning myself in?" Starscream asked innocently, clenching and unclenching his fingers as if it were a totally new function to him. In a matter of context it was.

"So what are you implying? A truce? Like amnesty or something?" Alexis asked, disbelief lacing her voice.

"Or something. Call it an exchange of valuable assistance," the mech said nonchalantly, "Your planet may be facing a very grave danger, an enemy that we both have in common. It is my conjecture that Galvatron sent Thrust and Dirge here for a reason, now for what, your guess is as good as mine, but rest assured it will _not_ be in your best interest."

"Yeah, 'cause we all know you have always kept our interests at heart," Stoner muttered under his breath. Starscream shot him a venomous look, but decided to ignore his comment.

"Ok, wait just one minute here," Alexis spoke up, "Galvatron. You mentioned that name yesterday in the desert. Who or what exactly is he?" she asked, cocking her head in a curious gesture. Once more Starscream lowered his helm until he was face-to-face with her. He stared at her and her at him. Within that span of time she saw a powerful wave of anger flash across his optics, like a wildfire whipped into a frenzy by the westwind. But Alexis sensed that anger was not directed at her, but at the being in question.

"Galvatron," Starscream hissed, "is the leader of the Decepticon army, or rather he was up until the time I decided to return to Earth. He is Megatron gifted with a new body—"

"Megatron!? I thought Optimus Prime killed that son of a bitch?" Stoner interrupted.

"Not hardly. He was still functional at our retreat from Autobot City."

"So did he like die later? What happened exactly?" the pilot pressed. "They never really gave us any details. Did he come back like you did?"

At Coldstone's question, Starscream began to chuckle darkly. "Not hardly, fleshling," he said between laughs and then his faceplates grew serious once more. "_I_. Killed. Megatron. _I _personally threw his rusted chassis into the black depths of space, knowing full well that unless he received repairs he would off-line in that black oblivion." He paused remembering that bittersweet victory. "But when I was finally prepared to accept leadership over the Decepticons, the being now known as Galvatron came and destroyed _me_, the rightful ruler of the Decepticons! After so much time I finally was able to claim my rightful place only to have that fool, Galvatron, take it from me by taking my life!" Starscream's last sentence was uttered with such poison, such venom that it made Alexis cringe.

"But if _you_ killed Megatron then how did the bastard come back as Galvatron?" Stoner continued. "I mean how did you know that Megatron is now in fact Galvatron and not some new bastard on the block?"

"Boy, just because I spent countless cycles wandering the universe as a phosphorescent orb of energy, doesn't mean that I didn't know what was taking place around me. I am not a fool."

"But why?" Alexis interjected, "Why would you make your presence known _now?_ What's in it for you?"

The winged Decepticon merely smirked, his eyes glowing like coals. "Why, now that I'm back to my old self, it's only a matter of time before someone else discovers my presence. I would just assume discovery is on my terms and no one else's. You humans will need help dealing with Thrust and Dirge and as for myself—well, let's just say I'm not exactly ready to hand myself over to the Autobots just yet."

Alexis studied the metal face before her. He seemed open to them—maybe a little too open. She had a funny feeling that he wasn't telling her everything. There was some other, underlying reason as well, but she just couldn't quite put her finger on it. "So that's the deal? You'll help us against the Decepticons, when and if they come back, in exchange for us not turning you over to the Autobots?"

"Essentially, yes, that is correct," Starscream affirmed.

"You do realize that just because we ask our superior officers not to turn you over, that doesn't mean they won't," Coldstone added, crossing his arms over his chest. "Personally, I would love for them to turn you over to the 'Bots and watch as they tear you apart one nut and bolt at time."

"You would like that wouldn't you, fleshling?" Starscream sneered, optics glowing brightly. "Rest assured that I would take great pleasure sending you down the same path to the Pit as your pathetic father!" he spat.

"You son of a _bitch!_" Coldstone cursed loudly, while taking a threatening step forward. It seemed that his courage (or rather his foolishness) had returned. Alexis saw Starscream's optics glitter with malice and she instinctively knew what was coming next. Quickly, she jumped forward just as Starscream was sweeping a massive hand down and towards them. She felt the rush of air whip past her face and when next she opened her eyes, she jumped a little at the closeness of his fingers. His hand was curled around her and Stoner both, inches from encircling them within a wall of blue metal. One of her hands was flush against Coldstone's chest; the other was pressed firmly against Starscream's massive palm. _Yeah, as if I could really prevent him from turning us into human play-dough!_ She thought with bitter irony. But as of yet the metal hand had not clenched and she figured that if he were going to squish them, it would have already happened. Slowly she released her bated breath and raised her eyes back to Starscream's face. His eyes were narrowed slits of pure fire and his face plates were set in a nearly indiscernible mask; it almost felt as if he were seeing straight _through_ her right to Stoner.

She cleared her throat nervously and watched as the jet's optics seemed to refocus on her. Alexis also felt Coldstone tense against her hand. This situation was getting tenser by the second. _I better say something before we all end up killed!_ "Look now is neither the time nor the place for you two to settle your differences; it's almost 0600 and the maintenance crews will be here soon."

Silence permeated the air for several long, agonizing seconds and neither mech nor man moved within that span of time. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Starscream slowly withdrew his hand; however, his optics still blazed with adulterated hate. Alexis felt Stoner take a step back shortly after. "That's better," she murmured, slowly lowering her arms. She slowly breathed a sigh of relief as both of her counterparts fought to regain composure. She turned to Coldstone, "We need to go. The crews will be here anytime."

He nodded in agreement before turning and stalking off down the hangar towards the far exit. Alexis watched him walk away for a second before turning her attention back to Starscream. "Look, we have to get some R&R at least for a few hours, but if you're still hell bent on meeting with the colonel meet me at Donaldson Park at 1300."

"Why should _I_ have to meet with you?" Starscream questioned suspiciously, cocking an optic ridge.

"Because proving your existence to the colonel is easier said than done and at least if you're there with me you can verify my story, or at the very least, crash and burn with me." She gave the Decepticon a side-long glance before turning on her heel and marching down the hangar. But as she neared the doorway, the captain paused and glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, and Starscream?" Bright red optics regarded her warily. "I'd change your holoform if I were you. Masquerading as one of our fallen pilots is not a good way to win allies around here." With that she exited the building, the echoes of the door slamming shut still ringing in the darkened hangar.

* * *

Alexis hurried to catch up with Coldstone; he had gotten a good start on her and she had to sprint to catch him in time. Her muscles ached painfully and she felt her side begin to cramp up into a throbbing stitch. Behind her, the sun was just beginning to break through the thin cloud cover left over by the night. Vibrant rays of red, orange and pink interlaced with darker hues of purple, blue and black as another day was born.

"Coldstone, wait!" she called, huffing from exertion as she caught his shirt sleeve. The pilot neither looked nor paused in his step as Alexis came jogging up to his side. With a brusque jerk, he yanked his sleeve from her loose grip and continued stalking up the sidewalk to his quarters, his face set in scowl.

But Alexis was not to be brushed off so easily. She jumped in front of him and planted her feet firmly, an equally determined look on her face. "What's with you!?" she challenged, moving into Coldstone's way as he tried to move past her. "Look at me! Tell me what's wrong, Stoner; that's an order!" He paused, but still did not look the captain in the eye.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit," she countered. "Now what the hell is wrong with you?"

Finally he looked up, an angry light in his light green eyes. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"

"Granted," she said curtly.

"All right. You wanna know what's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong! Working with that _bastard_ is what's wrong, Captain! For God's sake, he killed a whole squadron, my father among them and who knows how many other servicemen and civilians! And now, you're willing to cut a deal with him!? What's wrong with _that _picture!? I won't stand for it, Captain, I won't. You can continue playing mind games with that son of a bitch all you want, but in the end he'll kill you—he'll kill me—and he'll kill every man jack among us. He might help us for a little while, but in the end he'll still be the same backstabbing, human-hating Decepticon that he was 30 years ago and I refuse to allow what happened to my father, happen to anyone else—especially you."

"You don't believe in second chances, do you Lieutenant?" Alexis asked softly.

"Why the hell should I, Captain? My father sure as hell won't get a second chance and neither will anyone else." With that Coldstone quickly side-stepped around her and continued on his way, shoulders still hunched angrily. He knew that Alexis could have him wrote-up, but at that moment he just didn't give a damn. He wanted as far away from that damn jet as he could manage. She was playing with fire. She was playing with fire and she didn't even know it. Maybe he had been a little harsh, but he hoped he got his point across. They were just starting to get along; he was just starting to respect her. Hell, he had always respected her as a pilot; she was phenomenal; they didn't call her Spades for nothing after all. No, he was just starting to respect her as a woman—a lovely, full-bodied, vivacious woman who had a passion and drive like none he'd ever seen. It was then Coldstone realized he was beginning to love her and the thought of her being taken and killed by Starscream before their relationship could even blossom was almost unfathomable. Starscream had humiliated him tonight, but that would soon change. He'd not allow that bastard to take another person he loved. He'd kill that bastard and he'd make sure that once Starscream was dead, he'd stay dead once and for all.

* * *

Alexis stayed where she was, watching Coldstone's back grow smaller and smaller until he eventually disappeared around a building and out of sight. His outburst had startled her, but what could she do? Sure they could deny Starscream's assistance and try to take him on, but to what end? Many people would be injured, even killed and there was still no guarantee that the military could restrain him. If they brought in the Autobots, well, that might work, but they'd still have the other Decepticons to deal with. There were only a few Autobots stationed on Earth and getting the word out about a possible assault would take time and resources—things which were in short supply right now. But what could one ex-Decepticon do that a whole team of Autobots couldn't?

She turned and began her own walk back to her quarters. Her body and mind were screaming for rest, but still she mulled over the situation. Did Starscream still have powers that he had as a ghost? If he did, he would be immensely more powerful now than he was back then and there would be little anyone could do to stop him. But the real question was--was Starscream willing to use that power to the detriment of humanity? She honestly couldn't answer that question. It seemed as if he only desired revenge against the Decepticon leader who killed him, but if he succeeded what would Starscream do afterwards? And what of Stoner? She knew that if those two had to spend any amount of time alone together one would see to the deactivation of the other. She knew he had feelings for her; their kiss earlier that night had proved it. But she wasn't sure how she felt--how she should feel.

Up ahead her quarters were just beginning to be kissed by the morning's light. Oh God, she couldn't wait to crawl into bed and sleep! She quickly mounted the stairs, unlocked the door and slipped inside. Clarissa was already passed-out in her bed, snoring quite soundly. Soundlessly, Alexis began undressing her mind still trying to wind down from this morning's events.

But in all honesty, Alexis felt justified in giving Starscream the benefit of the doubt, despite Stoner's misgivings. He had yet to cause her physical harm and had even gone so far as to save her life, selfish intentions aside. But there was more. Whenever she was around him, there would be other things—a look, a gesture, a touch. Things that left her mind reeling and more often than not, her heart pounding. Was he really messing with her mind as Coldstone had implied or did it go deeper than that?

* * *

The echoes of the slamming door slowly faded in the nearly empty hangar bay. Still Starscream's optics lingered on the door where he had last seen Alexis. He was still somewhat baffled by her audacity. How dare she! How dare she tell him, Starscream, what he should and shouldn't do! And if it hadn't been for her, that annoying protoplasmic worm who has the nerve to call himself a pilot would have been nothing more than a fleshy bag of pulverized calcium by now! But much to his chagrin, deep down in his logic core he knew she was right. Now is not the time or the place to tie up little loose ends like Lt. Jerry Stoner; he could be dealt with later.

There were more important matters that needed his attention--namely reclaiming his throne as the supreme leader of the Decepticons. With a silent chuckle he folded himself back down into his alt form and allowed his vibrant color scheme to be replaced by the flat Air Force grey of the other human jets. It pained him greatly to have to continue to hide and be used like any other human machine. He wanted nothing more than to watch the humans cower in fear at his renewed presence. But there was an old human saying he remembered coming across back in the day that said 'to everything there is a season' and he could wait. He had waited this long and it wouldn't kill him to wait a little longer—after all, he had already died once.

As for Alexis…her behavior this morning was puzzling and dare he say enlivening. He hadn't expected her to interfere as she had. His thoughts drifted back to their short encounter within the desert. She was the first thing he had felt after regaining his senses. And as much as it dismayed him to dwell on it he had loved the feel of her. He wanted more. Much more.

But he was at war within himself. One part of him was utterly disgusted with humans—disgusting, stinking, wretched organic germs killing their own planet and not worth the soil they trod upon. On the other servo, there was Alexis--soft, spirited, calculating Alexis. She had been onto him from the start, knowing something was off since he first inhabited her jet. Each interaction, each conversation she had grown bolder, more confident, and more curious. Even after their "introduction" she had shown fear, but she still continued to listen to him. She was like a moth drawn to a flame. And now that she truly knew who he was she was still willing to comply on some level. Why was that? Did she enjoy toying with danger? There most certainly had to be an ulterior motive or was there?

Across the hangar blinding sunlight spilt into the building as the maintenance crews opened the doors to begin another day. It was time to settle in and wait. He could do with a few hours of recharge himself. After all, building yourself from the inside out was more than a little taxing on a new body.


	11. Revelations

**A/N: I'm back w/ another update. Yay! Just to warn you more sensitive readers out there—there will be some strong (and I emphasize **_**strong**_**) language in this chapter. Anyone who knows anything about the military knows about their "language" skills and as I try to keep this story as realistic as possible I feel it necessary to use such skills in keeping with the realism. Hope you guys enjoy this lengthy chapter!**

**Chapter 11: Revelations**

Alexis paced nervously under the very same tree where she and Coldstone had their first discussion about the Decepticons. It seemed appropriate—what with her meeting the former Second in Command and Aerial Commander of the entire Decepticon army in a few short minutes. She grinned bitterly to herself. _How did I end up tangled into this mess?_ That was the predominant question currently torturing her mind; despite a few hours of rest her mind had refused to submit and had been rolling this very same question over and over _and over…_

It was amazing how, if one reflected deeply enough, one little decision, one little spur-of-the-moment choice could have such magnifications later down the road. She couldn't really pinpoint the exact decision that had put her on this twisted, dangerous path; only that it had happened and now here she was—preparing to help one of mankind's greatest enemies and plead his case to her superior officer.

Would or could this be construed as treason? What would be the colonel's reaction? Would he even believe this psychotic story? Hell, she hardly believed it herself. And only time would tell.

She gave a tired sigh and rubbed at her eyes wearily. Dark circles were under them making their green color much darker than normal; also, her muscles ached with tiredness. The few precious hours of rest she had forced herself to undergo earlier that morning was barely enough. Her body screamed exhaustion, but her mind refused to listen to its pleas.

Tiredly she leaned against the trunk of the massive oak tree and watched the light, desert wind play with the leaves of the precious few trees planted within the park. So peaceful…so quiet…yet how many would be caught within the explosive situation that was quickly gaining strength, unbeknownst to all except a few?

"You look as if you were off -line."

Alexis startled only briefly at the raspy voice directly behind her. At this point she was too tired to scare and too used to him trying to do so. She slowly turned around and regarded the devilishly handsome man behind her—or at least the image of a man. Surprisingly he had done as she requested. She raised her brows in unconcealed wonderment. He was tall, about a good head taller than her, as well as broad in the chest and narrow through the waist. Even the baggy, olive drab flight suit that he wore could not conceal the well-defined proportions or his muscular frame. His hair was a light auburn, closely shaved along the sides of his head with the top being slightly longer towards the front and gradually fading into shorter and shorter lengths towards the back—a style known as a crew cut and one very popular in the armed services. The slightly longer hair in the front was spiked upwards away from two icy, blue eyes that could all but freeze anything in place with their intensity. Alexis noticed that his eyes were the same shade of blue as the blue highlights on his jet mode—beautiful yet deadly.

His flight suit sported the same patching as her own, right down to the squadron emblem. If she hadn't of known any better, he would have been able to easily pass himself off as a new member and no one would have been the wiser. Another note of interest, on the leather badge that denoted his name and rank she saw that he had given himself his old rank of Air Commander proceeded and followed by an emblem very similar to the Decepticon crest—the variations being two large chevron bars rising behind the face. It wasn't unlike the US Air Force logo, just replace the star at the center with the Decepticon face.

"Does _this _meet with your approval, _Captain, _or do you always give your subordinates such scrutiny?_"_

His acidic tone quickly yanked Alexis's attention from his body back to his eyes. They were undecipherable and gave not one indication to what thoughts lay beyond.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare…i-it's just that I wasn't expecting you to look like this," she said awkwardly, stumbling over her words like a new born colt on its first walk. _God! What's wrong with me_?" she thought sourly to herself.

"What is wrong? Is this form unacceptable?" he replied sharply, giving himself a brief once-over.

"No!" she said quickly, too quickly, earning her a scathing glare. "Uh, no…what I mean is…is your appearance," she gestured at his body, "it's perfectly suitable." She gave a silent sigh of relief as he nodded his head with acceptance.

"Very well," he growled, stepping past her to stare at the buildings in the distance. "When shall we get this _meeting _over with?"

"As soon as you're ready." Alexis stepped up beside him and followed his gaze. From the corner of her eye she watched him regard her, but this time it didn't bother her as it usually would. Perhaps it was because this time, she had a better grasp of where he stood, or perhaps it was because she was just too tired to care. Whatever the reason, his piercing gaze just didn't have that scary effect as it had in times previous. After a minute of silence, she heard him grunt in response.

"Then let us go." They exchanged a brief glance before he set off away from the tree. Alexis watched him for brief second, taking note of his erect posture and high chin-set. Even masquerading as a human, he still personified "arrogant bastard."

* * *

Starscream was at war. Not necessarily in the physical sense, although he knew that would come soon enough. No, Starscream was currently at war within himself. As he and Alexis continued to walk toward their destination, silence thick between them, he continued to dwell upon the creature walking beside him. That was unique in itself, he thought idly. Before, _no one _would walk beside him, not even his wingmates. And only one had ever walked before him. But now, here he was back on Earth within a new body, a master of new powers, and a creature that he would have once crushed under his thrusters as soon as look at her was now walking casually beside him as if it were perfectly natural. _How did this all happen? When did I reach this point of…tolerance?_ _And why can I not bring myself to end this Primus-damned tomfoolery?_

Alexis. Every decision, every choice, every-fragging-thing since he came back to this planet somehow led back to her. _Why?_ That was the single-most, largest question he had yet to answer. Why could he not bring himself to harm her, much less kill her? Was it because of her obedience? Was that it? No. He could not call coercion and blackmail obedience. And yet she always had that choice --the choice to ignore his threats and report his return. Sure others would have probably been injured, maybe even killed (he had no qualms whatsoever for collateral damage), but he would have been revealed early in the game and would have never been able to attain the level of power that he now wielded. So the question remained unanswered--Why? He needed to know. He needed to know _now_, before anything else happened, or in the very least to see if he was walking into a trap.

Abruptly, Starscream turned and grasped Alexis's arm in a firm grip, his eyes harsh and searching. "Before we go any further, you will answer me this question."

Alexis was caught off-guard by Starscream's sudden action. She tried unsuccessfully to yank her arm from his grip, but he only tightened it and pulled her closer to him. "What question?" she spat, eyes wary and filled with mistrust.

"Why? Why are you doing this? Why have you been _helping_ me?" he asked, spitting out the word 'helping' as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Alexis's green eyes widened with surprise. Of all the questions she was expecting him to ask, that one was one of the last questions she anticipated him to ask.

"What?"

Starscream gripped her arm tighter and pulled her even closer, so close she could distinctly see the lines and flecks of color within his irises and feel the heat being given off by his body. She flushed slightly at such close contact and deflected her gaze.

"I'm asking you 'why'?" he repeated again, with a slightly softer tone of voice. "I want to know why you've been assisting me; why you have not yet reported me? What do you have to gain?"

"In case you've forgotten, you threatened me," she answered curtly, raising her chin in defiance, "you threatened me and you threatened my comrades. I had nothing to gain; but everything to lose."

"Now that's not completely true, now is it, Alexis?" he asked softly, eyes unwavering. "There's something else, isn't there?"

Alexis bit her lower lip and continued to avoid his stare. Was there more? She didn't want there to be, but he was right—there was. She just didn't want to admit it not even to herself, much less to him. A touch just under her chin brought her eyes forward. Starscream had brought his free hand up and was holding her chin firmly, yet gently. A multitude of emotions assaulted her, flushing her face and warming her body. Why, oh why, did he have this effect on her?

"What is the reason, Alexis?" Starscream asked again, his eyes finally capturing hers. "You cannot deceive a Decepticon, my dear. I _know_ there is something you are not telling me," he added, the slightest ghost of a smirk playing along the corner of his lips.

"Yes," she whispered, breaking eye contact once more. "You're right. There is more, but I just don't know how to say it." She tried to turn her head away, but his hand continued to keep her face forward. Even while she closed her eyes, she could feel his boring into her—searching, prying, penetrating…

It took her a moment, but she finally garnered the courage to meet his eyes once more. Just as she had first observed, Starscream's eyes were the same color of blue as the highlights on his jet form—a rich, deep, even beautiful royal blue. She took a deep breath, gathered her wits and began to speak. "I…I…know this may sound totally stupid and weak to you…and I don't know much about you or the Decepticons or the Autobots or anything like that, but…what I do know is that it's not often anyone is given a second chance at life like what you've been," she paused briefly before continuing, "and I can't help but think you've been given this chance for a reason…and maybe…maybe helping us fight off these old enemies of yours, might be it."

She tried to turn her head away again and this time he let her, watching as she nervously chewed her lower lip and avoided his gaze. Starscream was stunned and it was a feeling that he hadn't had often. He was speechless to say the least. There was no usurping ulterior motive, no plans to off-line him or turn him over to a human research facility—there had been no malice in her words whatsoever. He had neither seen it nor heard it and Primus himself only knew just how attuned he was at discovering ulterior motives. Starscream was the master of such topics. But no, this human, this female aviatrix had been continuing to help him on the off-chance that he would help her, help her race. By this time he should be cackling madly at the absurdity, at the audacity of her statement, but…not now. He couldn't. There was something inside of him holding him back—something he couldn't describe, nor explain, nor wanted to explain. Looking at the creature before him, her honesty, her innocence--it stirred something deep within him, something he had never felt before.

Finally, he found words to speak with. "You _trust_ me?"

"What?" she asked softly, turning her head just enough to see him from the corner of her emerald eyes. "Do I trust you? Is that what you asked?" She turned just a little more.

His eyes bored into hers for the briefest of seconds before he spoke once more. "Yes."

Another period of long silence passed between them, each staring intently at the other. Alexis, who so easily avoided Starscream's gaze just a few minutes earlier, now couldn't take her eyes from his. At first glance, they still appeared unfathomable, filled with mystery and unknown truths. But Alexis sensed something else lingering in those deep, royal blue depths—something that hadn't been there before. She wanted to trust him, absurd as it sounded within her mind. For Pete's sake, this guy had been terrorizing her for the past several weeks. He injured a fellow soldier, had threatened to harm more, and held enough hatred for humanity to fill a Saturn V rocket and yet, her gut instinct was telling her to _trust_ _him—_Starscream, one of the deadliest enemies to mankind that had ever sliced through Earth's atmosphere. But she had to say something, so she spoke the truth.

"I want to," she whispered softly, so softly in fact that even with his superior hearing Starscream had trouble catching her words. The sound of boisterous laughter carried through the air and both woman and Decepticon glanced sharply in the direction of the sound. A small knot of soldiers were laughing loudly as they made their way across a small courtyard between two buildings not 30 yards away. Privacy on base was a premium and what little Starscream and Alexis had disappeared into the winds of time. "Come on," she urged, anxious to get moving again, "Let's go before someone sees us and starts asking questions." And so they continued on their way, with one wondering if she was making the biggest mistake of her life and the other completely astounded by his counterpart's candid answer.

* * *

"O'Conner, for your sake, this had better be a fucking joke."

Spades cringed internally at Col. Brandingson's cold, hard voice, she would have rather been in her jet with three SAMs on her afterburners, than be facing her superior at the moment. But what was done was done and there was no turning back now.

"No sir, this is not a joke."

"You do realize that this could result in a court-marshal?"

"Yes, sir." _Where was Starscream? He was with me right until I walked through that damn door! Cowardly, mother fucking, son of a bitch! So much for trust!_

And where is this…potential Decepticon now?" the Colonel asked, standing up from behind his desk. His aged and weathered eyes stared coldly at the captain. He was quite surprised and angry to say the least. Honestly, he expected better from a captain, especially O'Conner. When he had given her permission to enter his office, the last thing he expected from one of his best officers was this wild, half-cocked story about a Decepticon being on his base. Hell, a Decepticon hadn't been on Earth in over 30 years; even sighting an Autobot was a rarity in this day and time. The terrorizing days of the Cons were over—had been for three decades with that decisive victory in Autobot City. What in the hell had possessed her to come to him with this cock-and-bull story? "Captain?"

_Good question. I've been asking myself the same damn thing!_ "I…do not know, sir. He was with me up until I entered your office," she replied stiffly, body still rigidly at attention. At least that much was true, he had been with her, but as soon as the colonel answered her request to enter, he had disappeared like a mirage, leaving her high and dry with one wild story to tell. And tell she did; every little detail she could muster. To his credit, Brandingson had listened quietly, but the way he stared at her told her immediately that he was dubious—dubious and a little more than pissed-off. Probably because he felt she was wasting his time. She daren't move, feeling that the slightest twitch would send Brandingson into a screaming fit of rage—not that he was that type, but one never knew. She and Col. Brandingson weren't exactly bar buddies after all.

"What do you mean 'he was with you?' If what you say is true, and you better pray to God it is—I remember that those sons of bitches couldn't leave their bodies for any amount of distance." His brows were knit tightly together and his cheeks were beginning to flush. Spades' story was holding water about as well as a sieve. If she couldn't prove this claim…

"You are only partially accurate, _human._"

Alexis and Brandingson whirled simultaneously to see a black silhouette emerge from the darker corner of the large office.

"What in the hell!?" Instinctively, Brandingson's hand swept down to the 9 mm holstered at his side. "How the devil did you get into _my _office?"

Starscream chuckled darkly, an evil manic sound that made Alexis's hair stand on end. "As Alexis has tried to tell you, fleshbag, _I _am not like—let's see…how did you put it? Ah, yes! Those 'other sons of bitches' you so fondly spoke of."

Both the colonel and Alexis stared wordlessly, although Alexis was getting over her surprise much faster than Brandingson. In fact, the tiniest of grins was trying to break across her face. _So he didn't abandon me. Way to make an entrance Starscream! _She silently cheered.

"Who are—"

"Do not insult me! Who do you think I am, fleshling?" Starscream snapped before the colonel could even finish his question.

"You? _You're_ Starscream?" Brandingson asked, shock and disbelief evident on his face.

"The one and only," he replied superciliously, stepping forward out of the shadows, eyes focused on the colonel. "You would do well to listen to your captain," the holoform growled lowly. "She speaks truthfully. It is true that I have returned to Earth and have been—residing—here on this pathetic plot of land you deem a base."

"But how? How can this be? You were killed! I saw the report myself!" Brandingson exclaimed, his hand still delicately brushing the matte handle of the Beretta. This had to be a joke, just had to be. Wasn't it?

Starscream's eyes flashed red briefly, before returning to their normal color. "Yes, I was. But not everything that dies stays that way, I'm afraid, or at least not me anyway," he replied silkily. He walked forward some more until he was flush with the front of the colonel's desk. Almost idly, he began to study the small trinkets and paperweights that decorated the desk—first picking up one, turning it over in his hand and then replacing it only to study another object that seemingly caught his attention. "Sorry to _disappoint_ you."

The colonel shot Alexis a brief glance before focusing immediately once more on the person, _thing,_ image before him. "So how is it you are here, in this office?" he asked cautiously, slowly withdrawing his hand to the desk so that both could be seen on the flat surface. If this character truly was a hologram then shooting it would be a moot point. It was better to play it safe and keep this guy talking.

"Like I said before, I am not like my former colleagues," the handsome pilot-look-alike said and then he laughed softly once more. "Reincarnation seems to have—benefits—one of which is the ability to embody myself anywhere, at any distance I please, but enough about me. Let's discuss the current problem at hand." At this point, Starscream turned and glanced at Spades. "Alexis?"

She cleared her throat nervously as Brandingson once again stared her down. The tension was almost suffocating to her, but she had to see this through. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped up next to Starscream and began to speak once more. "Sir, we have a strong reason to believe that the Decepticons may be planning to mount an attack on Earth. In our briefing earlier, we told you about those two unidentified jets and the weapon they used against us." She watched as Brandingson nodded his head in agreement. "Well sir, it was only with Starscream's assistance that my team made it out alive. He over-shadowed my body, took control of my jet and led Stoner and Scorch to the abandoned runway. If it wasn't for him, I would not be standing before you now. Also, he's identified those two jets as being Decepticon scouts, Thrust and Dirge. Dirge was the one with the ability to manipulate our fears and render us incapacitated. Sir, I'm sure you're aware of Starscream's former position in the Decepticon army; he's agreed to help us, colonel, in the attack that is sure to come."

Silence permeated the room like a foul stench. Slowly, Brandingson lowered his body into his chair and ran his hands through thinning, brown hair. Alexis continued to stand, her eyes staring straight ahead but not really seeing anything. It felt as if every breath she took could be heard clearly outside the room even though she knew it not to be true. As for Starscream, he continued to study the glass paperweight in his hand, turning it over and over, as if the glass itself were the most precious element in the galaxy. Finally, a voice broke the silence, a tired and wan sound, scratchy with emotion.

"Why?"

"Sir?" Alexis queried, but Brandinson's eyes weren't directed at her but focused on Starscream.

"Why, Starscream? What do you have to gain in all this? Why would you help us, mankind, now when you spent so many decades trying to exterminate us?"

The Seeker took his time in replying, allowing silence to hang heavy once more. With a gentility that belied his nature, he placed the eagle-shaped paperweight back onto the dark, walnut desk. "Now that is the question at hand, isn't it, _colonel_?" A sly and knowing grin pulled at the corner of his thin lips. "Just be glad, human, that I have decided to help you and your wretched-excuse for a species and I shall keep my reasons for doing so to myself."

"How do we know that we can trust you? If all this is true," _And God help us if it is,_ he added silently to himself, "how do I know you won't turn on us? That this is not a ruse? Your history of helping others is not exactly immaculate after all."

Starscream laughed once more, thoroughly amused with the query. He began to fade, slowly at first and then more and more rapidly until only the echo of his reply remained, "The question you should be asking, colonel, is can you afford _not_ to?"

* * *

After the apparition had vanished, the room still held a heavy silence. It seemed as if the only sounds that could be heard were both individuals breathing. For Brandingson, it was a lot to take in all at once. So many secrets, so many allusions and from his best pilot no less—the biggest one: Starscream was back. One of their worst enemies, one of the most ruthless killers any pilot had the displeasure of confronting was back from the dead. How in the name of all that was holy did _that _happen? How does something like him manage to come back from Hell, unless Satan himself couldn't put up with the Seeker? Brandingson managed to withhold a wry grin at that thought. But in all seriousness, the Autobots' report had stated that Starscream had been vaporized, nothing but dust had remained of his body and yet, here was Capt. Alexis O'Conner standing in his office admitting to him that Starscream was very much indeed alive, has been for several weeks, had reconstructed a body using one of _his_ jets, had willingly _saved_ three members of his squadron and was now disposed to helping the US Air Force defend against a possible Decepticon incursion, the first to take place in almost 30 years. Brandingson knew that near-death experiences could change a man's outlook on life, but for Pete's sake this was Starscream for crying out loud! _Things would be so much simpler if he had stayed dead_, the colonel thought tiredly to himself while running a hand over his face. And then there was the problem with Alexis and her lack thereof to report this incident in the first place.

But had she really had a choice in all this? Had he been in her place would he have made the same decisions, the same choices? Would he have even been able to handle the situation like Alexis had? Ghosts, reincarnations, hostile take-overs--it was a lot to handle and even more to think about. Hell, had he not encountered aliens first so many years before, he might not have never even given Alexis' ghost story a second thought. Honestly, he was surprised she had held it together this long.

_All right. Let's recap,_ the colonel mused to himself. From the sound of things it appeared as if, of all the crazy notions, that Starscream had defected. Why? It disturbed him greatly that he did not know what Starscream's motives were or rather, the lack thereof. Was it really because he had been killed? There had to be a reason. Then there was the issue of what to actually do about him. The higher-ups at the Pentagon would shit themselves if they knew he was back and his defection wouldn't hold any amount of water—too many good men had been killed because of him. Chances were the higher officials would order his capture and give him over to the Autobots, in which during that process many more men would probably be killed. If he didn't report Starscream's return it would be the end of his career and possibly his life—_Leavenworth here I come, _aside from the fact, he'd be putting his whole base in danger by keeping this little secret. And then there was the question that the humanized Decepticon had asked him: could he really afford _not _to accept Starscream's help? It was almost like shaking hands with the Devil himself and not expecting to have to do anything in return. If this attack was coming, the government had to know about it and alert the Autobots. But there was another question buried within—if. They didn't know for sure that this attack was going to take place—they had only the strange encounter to go on. And this could very well be a trap all planned and set-up by Starscream himself.

"O'Conner."

"Sir?"

"I want a candid, honest answer from you and no politically-correct bullshit. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're the one that has had the most contact with this entity. Has he told you his reasonings for being here?"

"It's complicated, sir," she replied slowly, unsure as to how much Brandingson knew of Starscream's history, "You mentioned reading a report on his death. If I may ask, what was included in that report?"

The colonel sighed. "Only that he had been killed by a new leader in the Decepticon ranks—a mech by the name of Galvatron. Unoffically, the rumor had it that Galvatron was Megatron reformatted into a new body, but that was never proved conclusively." Meagatron's body had never been found after all.

"Well sir, I can tell you beyond certainty that that rumor was true—Galvatron is Megatron reformatted and he did incinerate Starscream. And since Starscream _was_ the Decepticon leader at the time, it seems to me that retribution is turning out to be a pretty powerful motivator in our favor."

"Sit down, Captain." Alexis did so without protest. She could tell it was going to be a long discussion; maybe she could make it out of here with her career in tack.

"So you're saying that Starscream, one of our worst enemies on record, is wanting to ally himself with us, humans, because he and this Galvatron fellow had a spat over authority issues?" Brandingson asked skeptically.

"Yes; that's exactly what I'm saying. If you think about it, it is a logical course of action, Colonel. He can't return to the Decepticons; he has no allies among them and even if he did, most of them are terrified of going against Galvatron. He sure as hell isn't going to the Autobots, so who else is he going to go to? 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' and I don't think you'll find a more fitting scenario."

"It still seems…unnatural to me. Starscream has just never been the type to ally himself with those weaker than himself." Alexis stifled a chuckle. "What the hell is so funny, O' Conner?" Brandingson snapped irritably. _My God, this is no time for jokes!_

"Think about what you just said, sir. Starscream considers everyone weaker than him, but he's not above using 'weaklings' such as ourselves, to his advantage—a true Machiavellian if there ever was one," she replied, a slight twinkle in her eye, but then her face grew dark with thought and the abrupt change in her demeanor did not go unnoticed.

"Something else you'd like to add, Captain?"

She sighed. "Permission to speak freely, Colonel."

"Permission granted."

"I know this may sound totally crazy, but then again what aspect of this whole situation isn't. But truthfully, sir, I think Starscream is allying with us because he _wants_ to not because he feels he has to."

"I'm not sure I follow you, O'Conner; continue please." So Alexis did.

"Sir, Starscream has just discovered he's immortal and although having such power is something to consider, I think all those years of wandering around the galaxy alone has gotten to him. He couldn't go back to Cybertron as it's in Autobot control, the Decepticons are firmly held by Galvatron, and if I did my research correctly, he no longer has his wingmates—he's alone, sir. No friends," _save for myself, _she added silently, "no allies, no home. Being able to live forever without any of those is kind of a moot point, don't you think? Earth was the only refuge he had to come back to, no matter how despicable it may have been. Why not fight to protect it from the very person who took everything you fought to achieve, even your life, away from you?"

Colonel Brandingson grew very still and very quiet. The two officers stayed that way for what felt like hours, but in reality were only minutes. "You realize the position you have put me in, Captain?"

"Yes sir."

"And the position you have put yourself and every living soul on this base."

"Yes sir."

"Very well. I have a lot to think over in the next several hours, so this is what I want you to do: First of all, Starscream's identity is to remain among the four of us."

"Four, sir?" Alexis asked confusion evident in her tone. To her knowledge only Coldstone, herself and now Brandingson knew about the reincarnated Seeker.

"Yes four, O'Conner. Surely you don't expect to keep your crew chief in the dark about this? If I know ol' Crow, he'll be pretty frazzled as to why there hasn't been a need to run any maintenance whatsoever on your bird. Am I right?" he said, raising a knowing eyebrow.

Alexis allowed a small grin. She could only imagine Crowbar's reaction once she told him her jet's true identity. "Yes sir; I believe you are."

"Very well," he continued, "If Starscream must be seen in public and anyone asks questions of you, tell them he's a pilot here on TDY, a high security mission on a need-to-know basis. That will buy us both some time to work this thing out. How much time do you think we have?"

"Until an attack?" Alexis asked and then answered her own question, "I do not know sir. Have there been any reports of any sightings?"

"No, not of late. But Washington has given us orders that if there are anymore sightings, we are to intercept and escort them out of US airspace."

"A little risky after that first time, don't you think?" she added wryly, remembering all too well those horrifying fears being dredged to the surface.

"I know and I believe you too, Spades, but Washington had other ideas. They want me to send another group of pilots," he hesitated not really wanting to finish this train of thought, "pilots who aren't 'mentally questionable.'"

"What!?"

I'm sorry, Spades, but you, Coldstone and Scorch are grounded until you're cleared by a mental health professional."

"And just when were you planning on informing us, Colonel!?" she snapped, anger threatening to boil over within her, all previous reserve thrown out the window in light of this news. This was preposterous! How could they!? He could _he!?_

"I'm sorry Spades, but this wasn't my decision_. _You three were to be briefed of this after your return from R&R. I'm sorry. I will summon you when I've reached a decision," Brandingson replied, not looking Alexis in the eye. "You're dismissed."

"But sir…!"

"You are dismissed, Captain," he said harshly and leaving no room for argument, "Good day."

Alexis saw that there was no point in fighting the issue. She slowly stood from her chair, saluted, waited for the return salute and then performed an about-face. As she prepared to exit the office, the slightest flicker of movement drew her attention. She paused briefly.

"Is there a problem, Captain?" she heard the colonel ask.

"Uh, no sir. Good evening, Colonel," she replied quickly before walking out the door.

Meanwhile unbeknownst to either the colonel or the captain, the subject of their discussion had never truly left. As mentioned previously, a certain reincarnated being did possess certain advantages over mere mortals, one of which being infamous intangibility. Starscream had never truly left the room, but had rather just faded to give the appearance of just that. He heard everything, right down to Alexis' defense of his being on Earth. It wasn't until the young officer left her superior's office that he decided to leave as well, for all that he needed to hear had just been said.


	12. Back in the Saddle Again

**A/N: Had a blast with this chapter! If you're a fan of my aerial battle scenes, then this chapter is for you guys! I thought ya'll could use a little action after all the dialogue I've been dragging you thru! XD! Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

**Chapter 12: Back in the Saddle Again**

"You have your orders."

"Yes, Lord Galvatron."

"The entirety of our attack rests of the successfulness of this endeavor." Beat. "You know the penalty for failure."

"Yes, Lord Galvatron," the two Seekers chorused in unison.

"Then get out of my sight."

They needed no further encouragement.

* * *

Once that cursed meeting was over with Starscream slowly withdrew from the room and waited in a dark and quiet alcove near the exit Alexis would be using. He was surprised. Very surprised and more than a little suspicious. She had stuck up for him, defended him as if he were one of her own. But to what effect? Stupid, stupid human! She stood to lose everything she had worked for within her own military—to defend HIM! Starscream! How ridiculously _noble_! It defied logic. Why put yourself in danger to lose everything you worked for? Granted it had been his suggestion to go to her superior in the first place, but he had been fully prepared for her to turn on him, to defend her own interests and ambitions—not the other way around. It seemed her word was as firm as her resolve.

But what was even more surprising to Starscream than the human's continued defense of him, was how _he felt_ about it. It was a strange, tingling sensation that seemed to enliven every circuit, every relay, every mecano-inch of his being. He felt…dare he say…relieved? Even the tiniest iota of gratefulness? It was so strange, so foreign, even alien to feel such an…emotion. Never, _never _had anyone or anything dared to side with him on any issue. Most had just mocked his ambitions or were too fearful of Megatron's wrath to even appear to listen to his goals for them, the Decepticons—for Cybertron. Even his wingmates had their limits as to their loyalty to him…

His wingmates…

A sharp pang hit him deep within his spark, reminding him of just how alone he had been these past several decacycles. He never thought he'd miss their company—Skywarp's maddening chatter, Thundercracker's stony silence. They had been the closest soldiers to accepting his grandiose ideals of capturing the leadership of the Decepticons. But neither would show their support blatantly and after the defeat at Autobot City, when he, Starscream, finally had the chance to seize power…their dubiousness had cost them their lives…there would be no doubt, no wavering as to his reign. By wallowing in indecision, they had sealed their own fate. He did not betray them; they betrayed _him!_ Or so he had always told himself.

Just then the door slammed open with great force, rebounded off the back wall and slammed shut with jarring finality. Alexis stalked out, her face set in a terrible temper, her green eyes dancing with Irish fire. She didn't even notice Starscream standing within the shadows, so deep and determined were her stormy strides. His brow furrowed in puzzlement before he strode after.

"Alexis." Her pace did not lessen.

"Alexis," he tried again with the same result.

"_Alexis!" _he snarled fiercely, grabbing her roughly by the elbow and spinning her around. "I _will not_ be ignored! Not by you! Not by anyone!" She was forced to stop at that point, the grip on her elbow was excruciating. Where her eyes were filled with fiery anger, his possessed the same wintry qualities as an Arctic blizzard—pure, cold fury. "Now then, do you care to explain to me what is your malfunction?"

She only narrowed her eyes and looked away. Clearly her anger wasn't directed at him, and he had a fairly good idea of what had set her off.

"Answer me, you silly-headed femme!" he said, giving her a shake. For a moment, he thought she was going to try and strike him, not that it would have done any good. He watched as she took a deep breath and then began to speak.

"He grounded me," she said flatly. "That son of a bitch grounded me, on grounds of 'mental instability."

"For how long?" Starscream asked, even though he very well knew the answer.

"Until I'm cleared. Your guess is as good as mine when _that_ will happen," she replied bitterly.

"Do you think your superior will agree to my terms?" he asked, skillfully changing the subject.

"I don't know, but truthfully we should expect the worse," she said softly, her anger slowly ebbing away.

Suddenly the base erupted into a cacophony of sound, the klaxons blared and the sirens wailed. The captain glanced around her taking in the frightening sight. Starscream stood rigidly, his eyes also scanning the crowds, trying to determine what the state of the emergency was. Men poured from the buildings like a swarm of ants abandoning their nest, shouts filled the air and vehicle engines roared to life. Something was happening, something dire and Alexis knew immediately that this was not a drill. After their recent encounter, it could mean only one thing.

She felt Starscream's grip tighten a little more. "It appears that the worst has already come," he hissed, looking after all the personnel running for their stations. Across the loudspeaker, directions were being given; officers were shouting orders and air crews were struggling to get to their planes and make ready for take-off. A horrible gut-wrenching feeling ripped through the pilot. This could mean only one thing: they were being attacked. Whether it was the base directly, or an area near-by she did not know and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it! Or could she?

"Come on!" she shouted, turning to run in the direction of the airfield. It was a good mile off, but she could get there in time if she pushed herself.

"And where do you think you're going?" Starscream snapped, keeping his grip on her arm and preventing her from running off.

"We've got to do something!" she replied, trying to jerk her arm from him, but it was clear he wasn't going anywhere, and by default, she wasn't either.

"We?" he said mockingly, "_I _do not have to do anything! We gave them warning and it is their own stupidity for not heeding my advice. Let them face the consequences of their decisions."

"Look. This might be our only chance to prove you are telling the truth. I don't think my government is going to come back and give you an apology," her voice then took on a mocking, sarcastic tone," 'Oh, we're terribly sorry, Mr. Starscream, for not believing you; can you please forgive us?' No! If we don't intervene and make your intentions clear, they're going to try and pin this on us, not to mention several good men may die needlessly! And I'll be damned before that happens!"

"If it comes down to that, I seriously doubt your government could pin me to anything," he smirked.

Alexis huffed impatiently; she didn't have time for this! People were going to die, _her _people were going to die unless they were informed of the potential circumstances. "I refuse to stand by and watch my wingmates fly into a situation in which I'm the only one that knows the truth! You know as well as I do why those klaxons are blaring! The Decepticons could be attacking and none of our flight-capable pilots know who they're going up against!"

"And why should they matter to you?" Starscream snapped with equal anger. "They didn't come to your aide in the desert. _I did_. Why even bother?"

"Because, Starscream, they are my brothers. My wingmates. It's my duty. I know that you had wingmates as well. Would you not do the same for them if they were flying to face an unknown enemy? An enemy in which only you knew how dangerous they really were?"

That silenced him, but not for the same reason Alexis had intended. His wingmates had never left his side in battle, but he had left theirs numerously. They had given him cover in countless battles, while he had left their flanks open to attack. And he had had no regrets doing it…until now. Why was that? Why did he feel this…this pain? This emptiness? As he looked into Alexis's eyes, her expectant eyes, he felt something else, a feeling he had come to know quite well these past few years.

Jealousy.

He was jealous because he had no wingmates that would come to his aide, like Alexis was striving to do for hers. He was jealous because he had no one that cared about his well-being or welfare like she did for her men. When he had, he never appreciated just how much TC and Skywarp had mattered to him. The closest thing he had to what used to be was this human. This one, solitary female organic who was willing to stake her life and career on a pathological liar and enemy to her people. Oh, such bitter, bitter irony. And she was right in one respect. Her government would turn on them once the true nature of this circumstance was revealed. He scoffed to himself. Let them try and take him! Galvatron couldn't succeed in killing him and neither would the puny government of the humans…but Alexis? If he wanted to keep her close, he would have to prove the sincerity of his intentions, as she had said, and help those pilots who were already pre-flighting their birds. To remain stubborn was to put _her _at risk with her own government and he wasn't about to lose the one ally that truly supported him. The one being who was still willing to give him a second chance, human or not.

"All right," he finally conceded, "But you must hurry and not be caught. I'll meet you out on the tarmac, but do not expect me to be in this form." With that he vanished like a shimmering mirage. Alexis wasted no time in rushing to the pilots' locker.

* * *

She ran fiercely through the crowd, fighting and shoving her way through the mass of bodies also trying to get to where they needed to be. She burst into the room only to find it mostly empty of both bodies and equipment. In the distance she could hear the muted roar of jet engines firing up and taking-off. Not five minutes had passed and already three-quarters of the squadron was in the air—not bad for an untested team. Alexis knew she had to hurry; someone would be looking for her to ensure that she was still indeed on the ground, that and it wouldn't take Starscream long to reach the tarmac. She donned her G-suit and grabbed her helmet, slamming the locker door shut. Let the party begin.

* * *

Crowbar ran from one end of the building to the other making sure his men were following orders and ensuring the accuracy of their work. A fine sweat had built upon his brow. And his stomach felt tight with nervousness. But it wasn't an anxious sort of nervousness; no, this was an excited type of nervousness. This was what he was trained for, had been training for and he was ready. Too bad Spades was grounded for this mission. Word had arrived from up top not to let her anywhere near her bird and being crew chief, it was his job to inform her. She may have been an officer, but the crew chief had ultimate say over whether the bird flew or not. He didn't look forward to telling her, but judging from the nearly empty hangar she may have already known. If he knew Spades, she would have been the first pilot strapped in ready to rock and roll but she had yet to appear and her bird sat forlornly in its spot, quiet and still.

Until now.

A man was removing the chocks from the wheels as well as the red "Remove Before Flight" flags. He was in a pilot suit but his face was unrecognizable to Crow. Just who did this son of a bitch think he was!? That was his bird! And no one touched his bird without coming through him first!

"Hey you! Hey you, Jackass! What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" he shouted angrily, breaking into a jog as the pilot removed the last of the markers.

"What's it look like I'm doing, fool?" the stranger snapped angrily. "I'm leaving."

"On whose authority!?" Crowbar demanded. As the unfamiliar pilot turned, a strange sensation coursed down the sergeant's spine. Something didn't feel right here. Something felt _wrong. Really wrong. _There was something off about this guy.

The pilot looked him dead in the eye and smirked, "My own."

He suddenly vanished as if made of smoke and then the building was deafened by noise as the two powerful Pratt & Whitney engines roared to life. Crowbar leaped out of the way as the jet rolled forward on its own accord, quite pilot-less by all appearances. He lay on the floor, oblivious to helping hands and excited curses, completely and utterly shell-shocked. No one had ever mentioned _that_ in the training manuals or the lectures. He stumbled to his feet and watched as the autonomous jet disappeared around the corner, golden canopy glinting in the high sunlight.

"Well I'll be a sonavabitch!" he whispered, before commandeering a hand-held radio. "Get me Colonel Brandingson! STAT!"

* * *

Alexis' lungs burned as she pushed herself harder and harder towards the tarmac. Her hair whipped back and forth from its place in a ponytail. She pumped her arms fiercely, flight helmet tucked tightly against her ribs. _Almost there! Almost there! _She chanted over and over to herself. The tempo of her boots striking the ground encouraged her—faster and faster, like a deer bounding across an open field.

Her eyes scanned the ever-approaching tarmac for her ride. She heard shouts and yells, some directed at her, some not. She even heard a rifle snap off a few rounds, but she ignored everything. She had one goal and one goal only: meet up with Starscream. She suddenly caught a sharp movement from the corner of her eye; she was being followed. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed it. Several MPs, all of them gaining on her and shouting for her to halt. _Not today, boys,_ she thought grimly. She was going to be in world of hurt if she made it back to base. But she'd deal with that when the time came.

An ear-splitting roar filled the air as a matte grey Eagle quickly turned a corner from the hangars and began barreling down one of the taxi ways. It was him. Alexis quickly veered so that she was parallel to the taxiway he was on and continued running. Behind her the MPs did likewise, cutting into her lead by several yards and gaining rapidly.

_I can't get caught now! I can't! My squadron needs to know!_ Taking a deep breath, Capt. Alexis O'Conner lunged forward in a last burst of speed. The roar from the engines made her ears ring, her heart felt as if it were going to explode, and her breaths were coming in deep, ragged gasps. She looked left and saw that the jet was mere yards away, canopy slid back, the cockpit waiting for her.

But there was no way to reach it! The ladders were back in the hangars!

"Fuck!" she cursed, risking another glance over her shoulder. They were almost on her!

When she faced forward a bright smile split her lips, for there leaning over the edge of cockpit was Starscream's hologram.

"Jump!" he shouted, as she and the jet drew abreast of each other for a split second. With a mighty shout of defiance, Alexis leaped at the jet's cockpit, her body slamming against the hard metal alloy with a vicious thud. She felt herself slip just a tad before an iron tight grip around her left wrist kept her from falling to the tarmac. A sharp yank upward sent a spiking pain through her left arm and into her shoulder; she grit her teeth to keep from shouting out. The sharp pull of air from the intake whipped across her flight suit with viciousness, leaving no doubt as to what would happen if Starscream let go: she'd either be sucked into his turbines or she'd fall to her death and be crushed under his wheels.

"Toss me your helmet!"

She did so without hesitation, watching as the tarmac sped under her feet with frightening speed. Alexis guessed she was only a couple of feet from becoming road kill. He stood standing with one foot on the lip of the cockpit, body crouched. He caught the helmet deftly by the hoses and tossed it within. Now with her other arm free, Alexis swung and reached up with her right arm, feeling relief wash over her as Starscream grabbed her by both arms and hauled her up as easily as a mother lifts a child; he dissipated quickly after. As soon as she was seated, the cockpit hissed closed and the jet rocketed forward. The landscape became a blurred mush of color and before long a sharp jerk backward told her that they were airborne. The seat harness strapped around her of its own accord and the jet began to barrel roll rapidly as it ascended straight up, white vortices trailing in elegant spirals of vapor in their wake.

She heard Starscream cackle loudly with glee, the harsh sound surrounding her from every angle. But now she no longer feared it. With a loud victory whoop of her own, Alexis shouted and laughed along with him, even as they quickly left the base behind and disappeared into the thick, cumulus cloud cover.

* * *

The city of Caldera lay in shambles. Innumerable plumes of thick, black smoke had turned the pleasant afternoon into a black, seething Hell filled with flames, screams, and agony. Above the city, two jets, Su-27 Flankers, darted this way and that, easily avoiding the stream of missiles targeted in their direction. Bright red stars adorned their tailfins, leaving no doubt to the pilots as to whom they were facing.

The battle had long since started and of the 13 jets that comprised the 42nd Fighter Squadron only seven remained airborne and backup was several minutes away. In the dogfighting arena, it might as well have been a lifetime.

"_I CAN'T GET A FUCKING LOCK!" _DOTAL cursed over the airwaves. "_Goddammit! I've never heard of the Russians being able to fly like this! They've got to have a jammer somewhere!"_

"_Negative. These are the only two bogies in a 500 mile radius. Windjammer confirms. Over," _another voice, EVAC stated.

"_Where's our FUCKING BACKUP!?" _Coldcock shouted, whipping his Eagle to the left as a foreign missile narrowly missed clipping his wing.

"_He's on your six! EVADE! EVADE! GODDAMMIT, LOBO! BREAK RIGHT! BREAK RIGHT!!" _A brilliant flash illuminated the sky as the jet exploded into pieces, another black smudge in an ever darkening sky.

A piece of debris glanced off one of the Eagle's canopies and plummeted to the earth. "_He didn't make it! Lobo didn't make! We gotta get outta here! They're gonna pick us off like fucking ducks in a shooting gallery!" _Ragweed shouted, panic lacing every word.

"_Shut the fuck up, Rags! We're not going anywhere! We're the only ones keeping these guys from leveling the city further," _Tomcat said. Her bird streaked across the sky barrel-rolling as she went, one of the Flankers hot on her six. She executed a neat Immelman turn, came in from behind and unleashed her 20mm cannon on the Russian jet. But to her surprise, not one bullet penetrated the jet's outer skin.

"Sonavabitch!" she cursed, diving sharply and breaking off her attack.

"_Why are they attacking us in the first place!?" _DOTAL asked. He took a quick look over his shoulder before banking to the right sharply.

"_Shut-up and fight, DOTAL! We can ask questions later. Watch it! Bogie approaching from your seven o'clock!_" EVAC supplied, while simultaneously banking to help cover his wingman.

"_I'm running low on ammo!"_

"_Me too!"_

"_I've only got ten minutes worth of fuel left!"_

All the pilots knew then that their backup would never make it. And since their ammo was worthless against this strange and new Russian fighter, they could only hope to keep them at bay just long enough. But time was running out and experience was against them. These fighters knew exactly what they were doing and it was painfully evident to the US pilots that they were out-classed, being played with like mice before two hungry cats. Suddenly, a new voice broke over the airwaves, one that Tomcat knew all too well.

"_Cease your attack! I repeat cease your attack! Break away and return to base; that is an order!"_ Spades voice announced over the radio.

"_Spades! Where the fuck have you been!? So glad you could join the party!" _Tomcat cheered. From a distance she watched as the small speck that was Alexis's jet quickly grow larger and larger.

"_Tomcat! I want you and the guys out of here, STAT!"_

"_What about you?"_

"_Don't worry about me! NOW GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!!"_

A brief silence ensued before her friend confirmed the order. "_Roger that. I sure hope you know what you're doing Spades. Out."_

Like a swarm of migrating starlings, the Eagles all broke off from the engagement and made a break for it. Two were smoking from one engine and another had a flame out. It seemed as if Alexis had made it just in time. Ahead of her she watched as the two Flankers banked into each other and headed straight towards them.

"This may get a little rough," she heard Starscream mutter.

"Do what you need to do. I've done what I needed to," she replied with more calm than she felt. The last time she faced these jets, they had nearly killed her.

"I may need to transform," he growled, rolling to dodge a stream of bullets. "If that should occur, don't fret. You'll be safe within my cockpit."

"And if they defeat you?" she squeaked as he took another high _g_-turn.

"_That _will never happen," he replied smugly, before entering a vicious dive. All Alexis could do was hold on for the ride and watch, both a relief and a source of constant trepidation. The ground rocketed toward them with dazzling speed before Starscream broke right, wingtips feet from brushing several of the still-standing concrete buildings. He whipped in and out between the skyscrapers with such speed and agility that it took her breath away. There was no way a human could even hope to mimic Starscream's every move and yet one of the jets behind them followed turn -for-turn, bank-for-bank. They ripped through the downtown area, tall sheets of mirrored glass shattered on either side of them as Starscream broke Mach 1 less than 50 feet off of the ground. Glass shards rained down behind them in a deadly shower, bouncing off their pursuer like pea-sized hailstones. A second boom was heard as the Flanker also broke the sound barrier.

But what concerned Alexis the most was the jet she _couldn't_ see. Where was he? Starscream whipped around another towering office building, completely circling it in one fluid move. The turn was so powerful that even with Alexis' training her vision blurred and blackness threatened to consume her. She shook her head and when her vision had cleared she saw that they were directly behind their enemy. Starscream fired a few rounds over the Flanker's canopy before peeling off down a narrow side-alley and out into open air.

Immediately he was intercepted by the second jet, but a quick flip of his ailerons and they shot by with only inches to spare. Alexis snapped her head around to see the two enemy jets nearly collide with one another, but Starscream's voice quickly recaptured her attention.

"I think it is about time to end this charade. Do you not agree, Alexis?" he questioned amiably, as if it were a discussion over cakes and coffee.

"You're the one in charge, Commander," she replied easily, finding it somewhat anomalous how easily his title rolled off her tongue.

"Very well." Soon afterwards a series of sharp clicks, buzzes, and chirrups filled the air. She felt Starscream slow his acceleration and then flip backward over his longitudinal axis. She caught a brief glimpse of the ground as she hung suspended and inverted in his cockpit, before she felt the jet right itself and face the two attackers. It was so bizarre, "hovering" there in mid-air, knowing full-well that F-15 Eagles possessed no hovering capabilities whatsoever. Bizarre and more than thrilling.

But what happened next would forever be burned deep within Alexis' memory. Less than 500 feet away, the two Flankers seemed to fall apart, pieces shifting, moving of their own accord, and then a familiar, yet alien shape—a leg, two legs, two arms and a large, cone-shaped head crowned each body. Even from this distance, Alexis could tell they were massive. Two monstrous, and lethally elegant cannons were mounted to each forearm, forearms aimed directly at Starscream's nosecone. Blazing, ruby-red eyes stared impassively at them and the air erupted with that strange, electronic buzzing.

A brief silence ensued. Suddenly, the cockpit lurched downward. Alexis gasped in surprise at the sudden movement and had not the harness held her firm, only the inch-thick glass of the canopy would have been between her nose and the ground 25,000 feet below. An alien noise accompanied the sharp movement and loud, cacophonous noises erupted all around. It felt and sounded as if Starscream was falling apart around her and then she realized—perhaps he was.

Next, she felt as well as heard his loud, ear-splitting laughter, the cockpit vibrating with the intensity of his mirth. His voice sounded so much louder, so much more powerful when he was in his true form. She looked out the glass at that point and even from this distance, she could easily see the signs of shock on the two other robots' faces.

Sharp movement drew her eyes upward and Alexis stared in awe at the two, equally massive cannons mounted on Starscream's arms. The sunlight glinted with deadly intent off the brilliant, white and blue metal and the young officer even distinguished a faint, purplish glow at the tips of the cannons' mouths. It was then Alexis felt with stone-cold clarity, just how dangerous Starscream really was—seeing the fear in the other two alien's faces only confirmed it. It was two against one and yet those two acted as if a great multitude were behind the Air Commander.

Starscream grinned with delight as Thrust and Dirge quaked before him. Such sweet revenge! Their fear tasted better than the sweetest high grade, nectar so sweet that it only continued to whet his appetite for more.

"Starscream!" both cried in unison and shocked beyond all comprehension.

"How!?"

"But you were--!"

"It's not possible!"

Their voices babbled simultaneously, logic cortexes struggling to comprehend this enigma before them, but Starscream wasted little time on explanations.

"I see you're surprised to see me," he spoke in English for Alexis' benefit. He directed his hellish gaze to Dirge. "Give my regards to Galvatron!"

A brilliant, purple flash filled the air, temporarily blinding Alexis. She shielded her eyes from the blast, but she could not shield her ears from the agonizing scream. One of the robots took the full brunt of Starscream's attack. He seemed to hover briefly in the air, before plummeting to the earth below, an ugly, charred hole straight through his upper canopy. The last thing Alexis glimpsed was the robot's darkened eyes.

The second robot stared in horror for the briefest of seconds before transforming and blasting away as fast as his engines could take him. Alexis heard a distant, double-sounding gunshot as the other robot broke the sound barrier twice over in quick succession. Seconds later he was gone.


	13. Respect

**Chapter 13: Respect**

Alexis's mind struggled to comprehend the rapid series of events that had just taken place. Starscream had just fired upon and killed a former comrade. Starscream accomplished with one blast what a squadron of fully-armed US fighter jets could not. The enormity of it all overwhelmed her, but she didn't have long to reflect on it. Starscream suddenly dove after the fallen foe, dropping rapidly like a bomb dropped from a B-52. She gripped the seat despite herself, the speed of his decent rattling even a seasoned pilot like herself. God he was fast!

At the last minute, the Seeker pulled up, the motion yanking Alexis against his restraints. He settled lightly on his thrusters, landing as delicately as a butterfly on a flower petal. Clouds of concrete dust and grit rose up around his heels as Starscream settled himself upon the ground. Once her stomach had stabilized, Alexis looked out the smoky yellow glass of the cockpit. What she saw was shocking. Capt. O'Conner had never seen the true horrors of actual combat. Simulations and training exercises could only prepare the human mind for so much; only actual combat experience or even the aftermath of such could prepare Alexis for the sight she now saw—and this was her first account of true devastation.

The city block in which they stood was decimated. Concrete and red brick rubble were in piles 30 and 40 feet high. Alarms were ringing, sirens blaring, adults and children alike still screaming in the distance. Fires had erupted almost every 25 feet, filling the air with thick, sooty smoke and reducing visibility to near zero. As far as Alexis could see, there were no human survivors. In fact, she saw the exact opposite. Her stomach nearly revolted on her, for as much of her own sake as for Starscream's, she held back the noxious bile threatening to rise from the back of her throat. Scattered amongst the rubble and debris, Alexis could occasionally see a scorched body, blackened and burned beyond recognition. Others had been crushed mercilessly, pools of burgundy blood beneath the victim's body. Alexis even saw a severed arm lying within the waste. So many lives snuffed like a candle in the wind; so many innocent civilians who woke up that morning, never to wake again. Children without fathers, mothers without husbands, parents without children—all taken within an instant. It simultaneously angered and saddened Alexis to see such destruction.

She felt Starscream begin to walk forward, the huge swaying motion more than a little disconcerting; after all, she was _inside_ a being who could crush her at his slightest whim. They only walked a couple paces and then the smoke cleared and she glimpsed the fallen body of the robot Starscream had shot. His frame still smoked around the gaping hole and arcs of electricity leaped from exposed wiring. The body lay in a broken, shattered heap. The once deadly wings were nothing more than mangled pieces of scrap iron. One had even been completely sheared off due to the impact. It lay twisted amongst the rubble a few yards away, a twisted sculpture of carnage. One leg and one arm were twisted in a sickening way; if a human was in such a position, the limbs would certainly be broken.

She watched, mesmerized, as Starscream walked up to the body and then knelt beside it. It was then that Alexis saw into the huge wound and she witnessed a sight she would not soon forget. Within the uppermost section of the hole, Alexis saw a faint blue-white glow erratically pulsing beneath the burnt metal. Its pulsing light greatly reminded her of the rhythm of a beating heart; perhaps that was what it was.

Suddenly, Starscream's cockpit hissed open and before she could react he had deposited her on the ground beside the other robot's head. She stumbled, catching her balance before falling to her knees. With wide green eyes, she watched the face of Starscream's fallen enemy, curious as to what was going to take place, wary as to what could take place. She watched as Starscream leaned over the fallen enemy, an arrogant, malicious grin breaking across his faceplates. It was then Alexis realized that this robot wasn't completely dead, at least not yet.

"What is it like seeing a ghost, Thrust?" Starscream asked softly, sweetly like a fresh, spring breeze.

"I…don't understand," the mech called Thrust rasped, "He…killed you. Galvatron killed…you. I…saw…it."

"So you did," Starscream replied. He placed a heavily thrustered heel on the injured mech's damaged chest, causing him to groan loudly and arch feebly in protest. Alexis winced subconsciously. "But as you can see, I am very much alive…at least partially." He bent over and reached a blue hand towards Thrust's chest, the only section slightly above the wound that was intact. Alexis watched with morbid curiosity. She had an inkling as to what was going to happen, but at the same time she really didn't want to witness it. As she stared, Starscream's hand became intangible and passed straight through the metal plating of the maroon mech's chest and cockpit. Thrust screeched in agonizing pain, his vocalizer sizzling out into loud, popping static. Alexis clapped her hands over her ears trying to muffle the horrible sound. When next she looked, Starscream's hand was completely immerged into the prone mech's chest, but not through the hole, no, it was _through_ the metal that covered that pulsing blue light. She watched the wiring tighten and the gears spin within Starscream's forearm, motions not unlike watching muscles flexing within a human forearm. Another ear-splitting scream rent the air.

"Tell me, Thrust. Why is Galvatron targeting Earth. Tell me what you know and I _may _let you live."

"I…don't know…AAARRRGH! Please don't, Starscream! I …beg…you!"

"Then tell me, you pathetic, glitch-headed, pile of scrap! Why are you here!?" Starscream repeated, tightening his grip around Thrust's spark, slowly suffocating the feeble energy within. He ground his thruster deeper into the flyer's chassis, sparks and metal shavings cascading down to the blood-stained earth.

"All right! All right! I'll…tell…you! Just…please…stop!" Starscream paused, waiting; he relinquished his hold just enough to encourage Thrust as to his good will. "We were spies…decoys…sent to instigate distrust…and…and hostility between the nations." The maroon Seeker faltered, his entire frame shuddering violently under the continued stress on his systems, but Starscream gave no notice. "With human nations…fighting amongst…themselves…Galvatron plans to attack and…destroy…the Autobot's most favored…planet." He sighed heavily, the effort of speaking much too exhausting. Thrust rolled his head to side and for the first time saw Alexis standing there, watching earnestly. His optics flickered weakly and a dark sneer struggled to form itself on his lip components.

"Working…with…fleshies, Starscream?"

He screeched as Starscream squeezed his spark chamber. "At least she will live to see me destroy Galvatron once and for all as I resume my rightful place as ruler over the Decepticons!"

Thrust looked at Starscream once more, utter terror blazing in his dying optics. "But…you said…I would live if I told you…what I knew!"

"No, no, Thrust," Starscream sneered condescendingly as if he were scolding a small child, "I said I '_may'_ let you live." Starscream then knelt until his face was inches from Thrust's. "You have out-lived your usefulness to me." In the blink of an eye, Starscream wrenched his hand upward, holding a large blue-glowing orb in his palm. Wires dangled from its pulsing light, some arcing electricity, others still attached to the mech's chest cavity. Then Starscream began to squeeze with painfully slow precision. Alexis watched and listened, horrified, at the brutality of what Starscream was doing. Thrust screamed, he screeched, he begged, he pleaded—although most of his words, if they could be called as such, were drowned in static. Finally, the pressure from Starscream's hand proved too great and the glowing orb shattered like a crystalline ball. Bright flares of blue electricity and misty, blue-colored flames leaped around the Commander's hands, pieces tinkling to the ground like glass confetti. Thrust's body gave one last convulsion before the color slowly faded away as if it never were. His head slumped to the side and Alexis gasped, leaping back in alarm and falling on her ass, the blank and colorless optics regarding her impassively. The expression on the now frozen faceplates was one of horror, fear and excruciating pain. It was a look of a death that the young fighter pilot would not easily forget.

Suddenly, Starscream's raspy voice, unusually soft broke through her haze. "Let us go, Alexis. Your human law enforcement is now approaching." She nodded dumbly, slowly rising to her feet, eyes never leaving that stricken face. She felt his powerful hand, that powerful, deadly hand, wrap around her torso and lift her away from the earth. Next, he leaped into the air under the cover of the smoke-filled plumes. Alexis's hair whipped around her face, the wind causing streaks of wetness to run down her cheeks. She felt weightless and then the cockpit enshrouded her; he had transformed and they were now burning the clouds back to base. She remained silent as they flew, eyes oddly vacant.

"Have you ever witnessed combat, Captain Alexis O'Conner?" his voice resounded around her.

"Not before today," she whispered numbly still staring out the glass.

"I thought so," he mused, being careful to keep his sarcasm at bay.

"All those lives…just gone. No warning. Nothing…just gone," she whispered tonelessly, still replaying the death and destruction over and over in her mind. She then looked at the jet's console. "Did you really have to kill him?"

"He was no longer useful to us," Starscream stated, "besides, he would have killed us both if given the opportunity," Beat. "Or I should say he would have killed you." There was a long pause in their conversation.

"You have never participated in a war, have you, Alexis?" Starscream asked.

"No."

"Then why did you join your nation's military?"

"I wanted to fly," she said simply, "I wanted to fly the best and most powerful aircraft that I could."

"And did not the possible participation in war and combat cross your processor?" he asked not harshly.

"Well, yes, I have thought about it, but I never thought that I'd actually—"

"See it?" he finished for her.

"Yeah, I guess so. We've been at peace for so long…." Alexis admitted, looking away from the console. She heard him chuckle softly. "What? Why are you laughing? What's so funny?" she asked heatedly.

"You," he said, reveling in the look of indignation on her face. "I can see this may take awhile. Let's go for a little joyride, shall we?" And before she could respond, Starscream shot skyward, rocketing through the cloud layer and speeding so fast through the atmosphere the altimeter's hands were moving in a blur of orangish color.

"Wha--? Where are we going?" she hissed through gritted teeth, the force of the _gs_ pinning her to his seat.

"Up."

Within seconds they had pierced the upper reaches of the atmosphere. Alexis gawked in wonder at the sight below. Brilliant white clouds speckled the darker, marine blue of the world's oceans. Between openings in the clouds, she glimpsed the snow-capped peaks of what had to be the Himalayas. Bright rust reds, sandy browns, and streaks of emerald green colored the massive continent of Asia. It was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. The pictures she had glimpsed in the _Air and Space_ magazine did not do her planet justice.

"Why…How?" she began to ask, but Starscream quickly cut her off.

"Silence!" he snapped. The tone and brusqueness of his voice made her jump within her restraints. "Listen and listen closely to what I have to say. You humans are so short-sighted. You are shocked by the sight of combat and yet you claim to pilot one of the most sophisticated pieces of machinery your people have claimed to have built? With what purpose do you think such a craft was created? Certainly not for pleasure flying! Death and destruction are an integral part of war, Alexis, a necessary, gruesome part of war. And you may not realize it now, but your people have been involved in a war for over thirty years."

Alexis cocked her head in puzzlement.

"When I first landed here thirty human years previous, the Autobots followed us and thus our civil war from Cybertron was brought to your planet. Your historical data is severely lacking in this respect. Whereas it may appear my people have left your planet, as you have just witnessed, our war has not. But your people have grown lax; they have led themselves to believe our war is over.

You grieve yourself over the innocents lost? Many more will die when Galvatron returns. Put them out of your mind, for there is no place for pity or mercy on the battlefield."

Her face hardened as he spoke that last sentence. "How can you be so cold? These are my people we're talking about!"

"And how do you think I feel, human! _My _war has been raging for eons! Thousands of innocents have died in the name of freedom, whether it is Optimus Prime's ideals or Megatron's. I myself have even killed countless innocent civilians; do you not think I regret that now? I know what it is to kill and I now know what it is like lose, especially one's life. But I can tell you now, Alexis O'Conner, that if you allow grief and mercy to accompany you on this battlefield against my foes, you will not last one solar cycle. Such emotions can be expressed once the battle is won. You are a warrior, young femme, and you must concentrate on surviving through this war. Look below you," he prodded and she did so. "Your planet still holds its original…beauty," he said with difficultly, "whereas mine has been reduced to nothing but an empty shell.

Billions of your species walk in oblivion of what is to come. Think of all those with lives yet to live and it will make your task easier. Do not be like me and my people. Do not forget what it is you are truly fighting for."

They drifted in silence. Alexis contemplated the words that Starscream had spoken to her. She had thought she was a veteran, that not much could rattle her. Oh, how sorely she had been mistaken! This wasn't like human warfare she had read about, studied about. There were no Geneva Conventions, rules of engagement or anything that defined what humanity had termed "modern warfare." This was foreign; this was alien. Everything and everyone was fair game to these Decepticons. In a jet, it was easy to ignore the fact that there was another pilot in the cockpit; it was easier to accept that her job was to seek, search out and destroy enemy fighter craft and/or ground forces. And now that in reality there really _wasn't_ a pilot flying these invading craft, she was hesitant and all because she saw the aftermath of their destruction. Starscream was right. No matter how cold or callous his words may seem, he was absolutely right. In fighting this enemy she couldn't be distracted by the lives already lost, but only concentrate on those lives yet to live. How ironic that such words of wisdom come from the very being who had vowed to destroy mankind not 30 years previous? Had death really changed him so much? But what would happen if they won this coming war? Starscream was still very much a Decepticon and though she didn't know much, she did know he was known for his deceit. What if he betrayed her and her people once the war was over? What if all he was telling her was nothing but lies to pull her in further?

"Starscream?" she asked quietly.

"If we win this thing," she took a deep breath, "if we win this thing and you become ruler of your people like you say you will, are you going to follow through with what you started 30 years ago?" There! It was out! Not that she expected him to answer truthfully, but still she just had to ask.

But much to her surprise, he didn't reply straight away. Starscream was taken aback by the boldness of her question. There was such brutal sincerity in her words that he had to stop and reply her question in order to be sure he heard correctly. What would he do? Enslave the Earth? Destroy the humans once _they_ have outlived their usefulness? All the goals that had been so crystal clear decades earlier had now faded into fuzzy blurs of personal discretion. Did he really want to follow through on all those things? The longer he thought about it the more he realized he didn't. For by doing so, he knew he would receive the immediate gratification of subjugating a species lesser then he, but ultimately he would be betraying Alexis. Even if he kept her alive and killed the rest, he knew she would never forgive him. He would be betraying his wingmates all over again by betraying _her._

Finally Starscream answered. "No."

"Are you lying?" The question was toneless, unemotional, but it represented so much more.

"I will not lie to you, Captain," he replied in all honesty, perhaps for the first time in his lifetime. "I…I, Primus I can't believe I'm saying this to a human!" he growled fiercely, his fuselage vibrating from aggravation. "I…value…your assistance too much to lose it by being untruthful to you," he ground out emphatically.

Alexis smirked despite herself. He had put so much effort into those words! How could she not believe him? The great Starscream valuing the assistance of a mere human? How bizarre and inanely appropriate.

It was probably suicide to trust him, but then again she had made it this far. In fact, she more than likely had sacrificed her career with the little stunt she pulled just to accompany him to this battle. Might as well throw all her cards in. "I believe you, Starscream," she replied and lightly patted the console before her.

"Good. Now if all matters of the heart and spark have been resolved, let us return to your base before your government decides that today would be a good day to test one of its SAT missile projects."

"Whatever you say, Commander," Alexis replied neutrally, sitting back into the restraints. Both Seeker and human, though mutually exclusive, felt as if some bridge had been crossed today, some measure of trust and respect had been afforded to each other, a measure that was not there before but like a sixth sense, was respectfully and intangibly there now.

The Eagle banked sharply down and to the left, afterburners glowing like twin meteors entering the atmosphere.

* * *

Eight men had died today. Eight of the US Air Force's finest pilots, killed, within minutes of each other. Lobo, Tex, TP, Shortstop, Lefty, Tic-Tac, Checkers, and Shots—none of them would be flying for the Red, White, and Blue ever again. One half of his squadron gone when only yesterday they were a full flight. And there was no telling how many civilians had perished. What the hell had happened out there!?

His surviving pilots, DOTAL, EVAC, and Ragweed had been swept off to the base medical facility as soon as they had landed. Only Tomcat adamantly refused to leave the tarmac, not until Spades was back on the ground. She stood by him now, eyes anxiously scanning the skies, attention split between eyeballing the clouds and the heavy AA guns that were now in place around the runway. What in the hell was going on? Where was she?

More than two hundred armed personnel stood by awaiting Brandingson's orders. Many of them were armed with RPGs and Stinger missiles; they didn't know what to expect, but they were ready to fight nonetheless. Finally the dull roar of jet engines could be heard in the distance.

"Ready your weapons," Brandingson spoke into his radio to his commanding officers. Tomcat shot the Colonel a worried look that said "_what-if-it's her?_ But the Colonel ignored it. Even if it was Spades, she had aided and abetted an alien fugitive, not to mention directly disobeying a direct order to not fly until cleared. He had no choice but to treat the situation as hostile.

A small dot appeared in the sky; early identifiers labeled it as a US make-model jet, brightly colored. It had to be _him._

"DO NOT fire until I give the command," Brandingson spoke once more. The jet was fast approaching the tarmac. Beside the colonel, Tomcat was nearly bouncing with anticipation. That was her friend out there! She was safe! She had made it safely back and that was all that mattered! "Contain yourself, Lieutenant, or I'll have you removed," she heard Brandingson growl. Reluctantly, she reigned in her enthusiasm, but her vivid blue eyes never left the jet.

Suddenly the jet nosed up into the near vertical. One can almost imagine the collective gasp that rippled through the crowd, all knowing that that plane was going to crash right before their eyes. But then the aircraft began to split and separate among various, seemingly invisible seems, falling away and reforming somewhere else, changing, morphing, transforming into something many of the airmen had never seen before!

The ground trembled fearfully as two large, metallic feet slammed into the runway, cracks spiderwebbing around the massive being as he slowly stood up, towering over the tiny soldiers, like a child stands above his plastic GI Joes. Several of the airmen tensed and several more began to tremble in fear, taking several steps backward even if they were already several hundred yards away. This _thing_ absolutely screamed "danger" of the highest degree and their discipline was beginning to falter in the face of such a foreign foe. Then a tiny movement at the thing's feet drew several pairs of eyes.

Alexis struggled to her feet, her body nowhere near used to the violent movement of the Seeker's transformation process or his landings. She placed an uneasy hand on the side of his foot and hesitantly stared out before her. It seemed the whole base was there to welcome them; "welcome" being the word in question here. Every single piece of hardware and artillery available seemed pointed directly at them and it was a very disconcerting feeling. Starscream appeared more annoyed than truly threatened.

"If you are going to speak, I suggest you do so now," he growled low enough for only her to hear.

"What am I suppose to say!?" Alexis hissed back, "I don't think they are too inclined to listen right now."

"I've done my part, fleshling; you are the negotiator; not I," he replied dryly.

Alexis harrumphed in frustration but nevertheless faced the crowd before her. She took a few bold steps forward, more than acutely aware of several pairs of battle rifles aimed at her chest. She cleared her throat and spoke as loudly as possible, "I want to see Colonel Brandingson!"

For a minute or two she thought she hadn't been heard, but soon she saw a parting in the crowd and out stepped a small group of MPs led by a sergeant. They were all armed to the teeth and wore very grim expressions. This didn't look good.

"Captain Alexis "Spades" O'Conner," the sergeant bellowed loudly. Uh-oh. No salute; this was bad. Very, very bad. "I'm here to take you to Colonel Brandingson." He motioned for two of his men to walk forward towards her.

Alexis wasn't sure, but that sounded an awful lot like an arrest order. She hesitantly took a step back as the two harsh looking airmen approached. Suddenly both men dived for cover as one of Starscream's blue-thrustered heels slammed into the ground between them and Alexis. The young pilot yelped in fear and fell backwards, staring up at the massive jet. The whole base seemed tensed to the point of snapping like a violin string and the distinctly audible clicks of safeties being clicked off filled the air.

"If Colonel Brandingson wishes to speak with Alexis he can do so here in my presence," Starscream spoke coldly, arms across his cockpit. It didn't escape anyone's attention that those two massive arm cannons were now crossed and pointed forward towards them. The air seemed to have turned frigid even though it was a hot, dry day in September. "After all," Starscream continued, "the good colonel stands not 500 English feet from the front line of his soldiers."

A collective murmur swept through the mass. Brandingson ran a calloused hand down his face. It had been worth a try. He should have known that Starscream would have seen straight through his ploy. The cards were on the table now.

"Colonel, I wish to go with you," a voice piped up next to him. He nodded to his escort; no reason not to deny the request. "Very well Lt. Taber." He slowly made his way to the edge of the tarmac closely followed by Tomcat and two other men. At the edge he motioned for the two men to halt and he and Taber continued onward. They stopped 20 feet shy of Starscream and Alexis, the tenseness in the air almost palpable.

"Well?" Brandingson bellowed, "Here I am!"

Alexis saw her dear best friend standing next to the colonel. It was all she could do to keep from running forward and embracing her, thanking God she was still alive. She shook her head. That would have to wait. Things were on a hair-trigger as it were.

"I am not blind nor am I deaf, colonel," Starscream sneered disdainfully. "Alexis and I have done you and your country a favor and yet you seek her arrest and my disposal."

"Captain O'Conner is in direct violation of an order. She and you pose a direct danger to the safety and integrity of this base! Because of you two, we are now facing an international crisis that could have a nuclear outcome!"

"Foolish, arrogant piece of organic pulp! Because of me you are still alive this very hour to bluster and wave your supposed authority! You know not with whom you are dealing!" Starscream snarled fiercely bending low to glare at Brandingson with a measure of hate so strong it would have melted titanium.

"Enough! Please!" Alexis shouted, coming to stand between them. Starscream rose back to his full height and stared down disdainfully at the colonel.

"Colonel, please listen to what I have to say. You know me better than this!" Alexis pleaded. "You know I would not directly disobey an order unless I have a good reason. And besides," she added, "I _technically_ didn't disobey any orders."

"Oh, really? Then explain to me, Captain, how flying off in one of my jets is not insubordination of my orders!?"

"Idiot!" Starscream sneered, catching on to Alexis's game, "First of all, she didn't _fly_ anything; _I _did all the flying. Second, _I _am not nor will I ever be one of _your_ jets. So if you seek to punish her on such grounds, I believe by all rights and evidence, the captain here really hasn't disobeyed you. And I am not in your jurisdiction."

Brandingson stood fuming. He was had and he knew it. "Very well, O'Conner, but that still doesn't excuse the fact that you two are the cause of an international crisis of potentially nuclear proportions!"

"Sir, the fighter craft the squadron intercepted today were not from Russia."

"Our footage shows otherwise."

"And appearances can be deceiving! Those two jets were not Russian; they were alien--Decepticons!" Alexis shouted emphatically. "And I can prove it! Starscream," she shouted up at the mech, "do you have footage of that fight?"

"Even better, Alexis," he replied smoothly, that all-knowing smirk drawing up his faceplates. "Said evidence is now on the local broadcasting bandwidth."

"What!?"

"He said check the news," Alexis clarified. Brandingson turned and barked a few more orders. _Hmmm…I guess Military Intelligence really is an oxymoron, _she thought wryly.

At this point Clarissa decided to speak up; she couldn't maintain her silence any longer. "I'll vouch for Alexis, sir," she said in all seriousness. "I've studied all types of aerobatics, Russian aerial maneuvers included, sir, and not one of those jets we faced off with today used any of them. In fact some of the maneuvers they were pulling downright defied all laws of physics. The Russians are good, sir, but they're not that good."

"The Decepticons were finished years ago and no one's seen one since--until now," Brandingson argued. "And from what I can recall, _you_ are the last Decepticon anyone should trust! I should blow you to smithereens right now and be done with you!" He shouted, pointing a finger at Starscream.

A dull hum filled the air and another collective gasp rent the crowd. Tomcat and Brandingson stood frozen, both staring wide-eyed down the huge open maw of one of Starscream's null cannons. He motioned with the cannon's tip towards Tomcat.

"Move."

She obeyed, neatly taking several paces to the right of her superior, hands held up in a sign of submission. The barrel refocused on Brandingson, a faint purplish glow radiating from within and highlighting the stricken features of the colonel. All around the airfield, weapons, missiles, and rifles were aimed at the two figures. No one dared to breathe. No one dared to wipe the sweat collecting on nervous brows. It was a stand-off and whoever blinked first was going to die. Alexis stood underneath Starscream, stunned. Depending on the outcome of what was said next, she would either live or die and it was the joker's pick.

"Go ahead, Colonel," Starscream purred sweetly, "Give the order to have me destroyed. But I assure you, you will be vaporized before even the first round leaves the barrel of your mens' weapons. My quarrel is not with you or your men, but with an enemy you adamantly refuse to believe is coming. Now we can lower our weapons and discuss a proper treatise between your government and I, or you can try to off-line me--and I assure you, I will kill all of you before that thought even begins to cross your organic processors. Now which will it be?"

Brandingson swallowed loudly. He hated giving in, even more to this despot whack-job. But was it really worth the annihilation of even more lives? His weathered eyes flicked to Alexis. She was pale as paper, but there was a strength in her eyes too, a sort of knowing. She was motioning with her hands for him to back down. Could he trust her?

Finally after an eternity of silence, Colonel Brandingson slowly lowered his raised hands. "What would you like to discuss?"

It seemed as if the very base itself was alive as everyone who had waited with bated breath released it. Most of the armaments were lowered, but just a click. Suddenly a voice called to the colonel.

"Sir!" It called from somewhere behind them; he turned and saw a breathless airman come trotting up. "They're reporting a body found in Caldera, sir," the airman panted, trying to catch his breath. "Alien in nature, mangled badly. Looks similar to him," he said pointing at Starscream. "Huge mother fucker! They're bringing it here!"

"What!?" Brandingson roared, "On whose authority!?"

"The Secretary of Defense, sir. Here." He handed the colonel a messy shuffle of papers. Brandingson scanned through them and then cursed profusely. "Captain," he barked turning to Alexis, "It appears we're going to have company of high importance shortly. Get your ass cleaned up and in your blues. I want you in Hangar 3-Bravo by 1800 sharp! St-Star-scream."

"It's Commander Starscream to you human," the Seeker rebutted. Brandingson frowned deeply but did not argue.

"All right, _Commander_ Starscream, would you please be so kind as to meet with me and Captain O'Conner there as well? We can discuss your terms with the Secretary of Defense if you so wish," he added, trying hard to keep the mockery from his voice.

Starscream merely nodded his dark helm. Brandingson returned the nod, barked a few orders in his radio and walked off, shouting to various officers as he went. The guarded tarmac quickly diffused and soon only Starscream, now back in his alt mode, Alexis and Tomcat remained in the wide open. It was almost as if their tumultuous return had never happened.

Alexis, color now back in her face rushed forward and gave her friend a fierce hug thanking her profusely for her support. Tomcat laughed it off.

"If anything I should be thanking _you_," she said pulling away briefly from her best friend. "If it hadn't been for you two," she nodded her red head in Starscream's direction, "I'd be buzzard bait right about now."

"But why? I mean you act like…you're not even fazed by him! I mean even when he drew down his weapon on you, you kept your cool. How? _Why_?" Alexis said, pointing at the jet.

"I've known about the Transformers for a long time. I've done a lot a research on aerial combat tactics, remember?" Tomcat said a guilty look in her eye. "That included digging up everything I could find on the Transforming jets as well. Although I'd never thought I'd see one up close, especially _that _close. It was a little nerve-wracking, but hey, screaming and shouting like an idiot wouldn't have solved anything, now would it?" the redhead finished, shrugging her shoulders.

You do know who this is, don't you?" Alexis hissed, a little disturbed that her friend wasn't at least a little more nervous around Starscream.

"Yes, I do. He's Starscream. Former Decepticon SIC and Aerial Commander not to mention the leader of the Decepticon jets known as the Seekers and one of if not the best aerobatic combat flyer to ever touch the sky."

"And you're not at all upset by the fact he's killed humans before. Americans. Pilots. People like us?" Alexis pressed, still baffled.

"_You're_ with him, aren't you? Besides, we were in a war back then, Alexis. That's what war is all about. Killing your enemy. He may have hated us then but it certainly looks like he's on our side now. If more of these guys are coming, I'm gonna take what help I can get, and screw the past—can't change it anyway. Good to have you back on the team." She gave Alexis another brief hug and surprisingly turned and saluted Starscream's jet form. "Thank you for what you did for us up there today." She then jogged off back to the barracks.

Starscream had remained unduly quiet during their exchange and only now chose to spoke. "Your human friend is quite observant," he mused, "as well as well-informed. I would like to keep her near."

"Is that why you told her to move?" Alexis asked cautiously, staring at his nosecone.

"Partially. For a human, she has talent and her services will be useful in the coming days."

"Were you really going to shoot Brandingson?"

The jet rolled a little on its landing gear and Alexis heard a distinct snort of amusement. "That would have been counter-productive, don't you think? I believe you humans have a saying in which I 'called his bluff.' Like you the Colonel is soft-sparked; if given an alternative he will not sacrifice his men unless absolutely asked to and even then he has reservations. How he has made and kept his rank is illogical to me."

It was Alexis' turn to snort. "It's called prudence, Starscream. And you're not as 'hard-sparked' as you think you are or were, whatever the case may be."

"And why do you say that?" he asked genuinely curious.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's because I know you could have killed everyone here today all bluffing aside. You've had several opportunities to kill me and my squadmates and more than enough to cause general havoc in and around here and yet…Yet you haven't killed one human being since your return. I'm not saying you're reluctant to kill," she added, remembering Thrust's demise, "but…I don't know…" she trailed off, unable to finish what she wanted to say.

"Go on," he urged, curious as to her analysis of him.

"I don't know," she repeated, beginning to walk away; time was growing short. "I guess what I'm trying to say is you seem different, that's all." And she threw him a quick wave and trotted off back to her barracks, not daring to look back. But her words had struck a thoughtful response in the Decepticon. Maybe he was different. Killing before had giving him such delicious pleasure, but now…it seemed so…secondary. Now that he had felt death's cold kiss and endured her cruel punishment, it didn't hold the same amount of satisfaction as it had before. In fact he nearly, dare he say, respected it?


	14. Trust

**A/N: I hope the lengthiness and quality of this chapter makes up for the delay. You will quickly discover that this chapter is a turning point in this story; I only hope that I've kept Starscream in character for this fic. Please let me know how I did. I also took certain liberties introducing a minor, but integral character in this chapter; I thought he would be very appropriate for the role ;) Cookies to those who can name the movie that our mystery character references!**

**Chapter 14: Trust**

Coldstone had watched the tense situation that Starscream's return instigated among the personnel slowly dissolve into a state of nervous readiness. He gently replaced the M16 back into the armory's one of many rifle cradles, filing out the door with the other airmen now that the crisis had been averted. He was no infantryman by any stretch of the imagination, but knowledge of firearms and major weapon systems always came in handy, especially in the military. But then a bitter smile crept onto his lips; not that any of their weapons would be of particular usefulness against a Decepticon, much less the ghost of one.

Currently, his thoughts were a swirling maelstrom of emotion. He hadn't seen Alexis's audacious jump on the runway, but word of its happening had spread like a California wildfire. At first he was dumbfounded. Seriously, who was insane enough to try and leap aboard a taxiing fighter jet? Least of all his mission commander, Alexis? But a good friend of his was one of the MPs who had tried and failed to chase her down and Coldstone knew that man would never tell a lie. After the shock had waned, anger and outrage had set in. How could she be so _stupid!? _What in the hell had she been thinking!? He'd been known to pull some crazy stunts in his time, but what she did was downright suicidal! And the fact that she had gone with that Decepticon scumbag made the whole fiasco ten times worse. Was his captain_ that_ blind? Did she not realize he was _using_ her? Using humanity? And once he was finished with her he would dispatch her with no more thought than when he had killed his father. And after that…Coldstone shuddered to think what would happen to the world's citizens.

The fact that Starscream was still around, practically on free rein, made the pilot absolutely furious. What in the hell was wrong with these people? They were harboring an enemy combatant for crying out loud! Thirty years ago, the Decepticon SIC would have been annihilated for even thinking of setting foot on a US air base. Why was Brandingson even listening to him? Did they honestly think the Decepticons were making a comeback? So what if those two jets were scouts? It didn't mean that the Cons were powerful enough to mount an attack. Earth's defenses were triple what they were back in the 80s; add that to the Autobots' various outposts scattered across the globe and it seemed the blue planet had things well in hand. Besides, even if Starscream proved correct, what difference would _one _traitor make against an army? How was it that maybe Starscream himself was a spy? After all, a ghost would be the perfect fly on the wall. And it would not be the first time the Seeker proved traitorous. Nevertheless, if his superiors were going to be foolish enough to listen to Starscream and his lies, then it was up to someone not under the Decepticon's influence to see that justice was served. But how?

It was painfully clear that Alexis had chosen to believe Starscream over her own wingmate. It hurt him deeply. Just when he thought he was making headway with that fiery woman, she had turned her back on him and his suspicions. How could he make her see the truth? He didn't want to lose her, not now. Not after that kiss they had shared, the talks they had had. But it seemed as if the harder he tried to get closer to her, the closer Starscream pulled her into his clutches, catching her up in lies, falsehoods and soon-to-be broken promises. The looks the Decepticon gave her did not go unnoticed by the pilot either. The stares had grown longer, the gaze more intense—like a cougar eyeing a tender young calf by its mother's side. And Alexis seemed oblivious to it all. Or was she? Maybe his captain was playing the most dangerous game of all? What if she was purposefully engaging in a battle of wits with the Seeker? He swore vehemently under his breath. If that were the case, then that woman was as ballsy as hell. And all the more reason for him to try and hang onto her. When they had last seen each other, it had been in the hangar immediately after Starscream's reveal and he hadn't exactly left her on good terms; it was time to try and make amends and see exactly what she was playing at.

* * *

Alexis gave a tired sigh as the warm sprinkling of water from the shower nozzle doused her body with tingly goodness. God, she was tired. The wild ride Starscream had given her had taken a larger toll on her body than she first realized. Hopefully after this meeting, she would be able to steal a few hours of rest. Reluctantly she cut the warm torrent of water and stepped from the shower, goosebumps pimpling her soft, creamy skin as the water quickly dried. Brown hair hung in damp, chocolate locks, clear beads of water dripping from the ends. She wrapped a soft, pastel green-colored towel around her body and proceeded to fix her hair. Once that was finished she stepped from the bathroom and walked to her modest closet where her dress blues hung. She dressed slowly, methodically, making sure that every button was clasped, and every device was straight as an arrow and centered over her breast. Every piece of metal, no matter how miniscule, shined as bright as a star. Not a hair was out of place, not a speck of dust on her uniform.

Alexis had just finished slipping on her right pump when she heard a sharp knock at her door. A frown creased her forehead. _Who could that be?_ She walked up to the door and opened it cautiously, peering around the corner. Her green eyes widened with surprise to see Coldstone standing in the doorway, cover in hand.

"May I come in?" he asked softly.

"Sure, sure," she replied stepping to the side to allow him to pass. He entered quickly, her shutting the door gently behind him. "What brings you here?" she asked cautiously, remembering all too well his angry outburst almost a day before.

"I…I wanted to apologize, Captain," he began hesitantly, eyes lowered to the floor, "I was totally out of line last night and for that I'm sorry."

Alexis just stared, totally taken aback. Coldstone Stoner never apologized—_for anything._ He was above such petty humilities. His arrogance was almost as great as Starscream's. Almost. She suddenly remembered he was still standing there, waiting for her reply. She gave her head a brief shake and looked him straight in the eye.

"You were angry and it's totally understandable. Not many people could face their father's murderer and not react the way that you did. I don't think there is anything to forgive."

"That may be so, but I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you. You're still my superior and there is no excuse for my behavior."

She allowed a small smile. "It's OK, Coldstone. I'm not going to discipline you if that's what you're afraid of."

Oh no. That wasn't what he was afraid of. More than anything he was afraid of losing so much more, so much, _much _more_--_but how to tell her that?

"Huh, well that's a relief," he grinned ruefully, shifting his cover from right hand to left, his manner becoming much more relaxed. At least she accepted his apology and that was better than he had anticipated.

"Come on, sit down," she motioned, "I've still got a little bit of time before the SecDef gets here."

"I heard he was coming," he paused and then added, "as well as what happened," he said neutrally, sitting easily on the old, tattered couch within Alexis's living room. She sat across from him in a plump, peach-colored chair, her ankles crossed neatly and tucked under her seat.

"I did what I thought was right, but I guess it wasn't enough," she said softly, averting her eyes.

"What you did was downright suicidal," he commented, noting how his words made her wince, "but then again, most heroic acts usually are." He watched the corner of her lips twitch, saw how her eyes were beginning to moisten. Looked as if he struck a chord. _Way to go you moron! _He chastised himself.

But Coldstone couldn't have known that this reaction was a long time coming. Ever since she and Starscream had discussed the affairs of war, Alexis had been withholding the torrent of emotions that had been building since losing so many of her comrades. She had tried to be strong, tried to keep the sadness, moroseness, and the horrible feeling of loss at bay, but Coldstone's words were like a password to the floodgates of emotion. Now with the adrenaline rush over and the heat of battle more than cooled, she couldn't hold back any longer.

"But it still wasn't enough," she whispered, lowering her head. "They're still dead, Jerry. Lobo, Tex, Checkers, TP…They're all _still dead!_ What if I had told Brandingson sooner!? What if I could have done something, _anything_ differently!? Would they still be here? Alive? I failed them, Jerry! I've failed my squadron and I've failed my friends." And then Alexis totally broke down, large tears welling up within her eyes to stream down her powdered cheeks like a gentle, summer spring. The large green irises appeared like emerald-colored blown glass and her breaths came and went like a ragged wind. "I don't think I can do this…"

Her outburst had totally taken him by surprise. Just what in the hell _had_ happened out there? The guys were dead!? How!? He had only gleaned tidbits of information here and there, but he was sorely lacking the big picture. And it was painfully obvious Alexis was traumatized; hell, she probably hadn't even been properly debriefed. And this was post-traumatic stress if he ever saw it. What had gone on between her and Starscream? The pilot quickly left his seat and knelt before the distraught woman, taking both her hands in his. She glanced at him, trying in vain to stop the flow of tears.

"Alexis, why don't you tell me what happened? From the beginning," he suggested softly, eyes never leaving her face. She nodded slightly and through gasping sobs and free-falling tears, she told the young lieutenant everything she had seen, heard, and even smelled. Even now the stench of death still filled her nostrils with its phantom scent. She told him how Starscream killed Thrust and allowed the other mech to live as a messenger; she even told him of her discussion the two of them had shared about the horrors and necessities of war. She let it all out, every horror, every moment, every feeling and every emotion. Coldstone listened quietly for once; he daren't interrupt her. She needed this release; who knew how long she had been holding it all in?

When she had finished speaking, he allowed her to cry softly into his shoulder. He rubbed her back and held her close, not at all enjoying her so upset, but at the same time, deeply glad he could be here for her. After a few minutes of listening to her soft sobs, he felt her shoulders shake. At first he thought she was crying with renewed vigor, but then he quickly realized the shaking was not from her sobs but from a soft laughter.

He pulled away to look her in the face, puzzled by this sudden turn in emotion. Alexis stared back, a sorrowful look in her crystalline green eyes. "You probably think I'm the biggest wuss in the Air Force now, don't you? A pilot who can't even handle seeing her first fatalities," she said bitterly, taking a hand to try and dry her tears.

"No, I don't think that all," he replied in the most serious voice he could muster. She looked at him dubiously.

"I'm serious, Captain. What you saw today…what happened today, I don't think very many people would have been able to handle it."

"I'm not handling it very well at all! That's the problem," she half-laughed, half-sobbed.

"Hey, at least you're talking about it, Captain. And that helps more than anything. I know we can never bring those guys back," he paused, struggling to compose himself for her sake. God! It was hard to believe they were gone! No more jokes, no more crazy pranks, no more…_Stop it, Stoner! You losing it too won't help her, not one bit! _He inhaled deeply, recomposing his thoughts, "We may not be able to bring them back," he repeated, "but look at the lives you saved. Me, you, Tomcat and Scorch…we could have been the only ones left of the squadron, had you not gone out there, and who knows how many more civilians would have been killed. You did the right thing, Alexis. I may not like _how_ you did it, but ultimately you did a good thing. The best thing we can do now, is make sure TP, Shorty, and the rest of the guys don't die in vain."

She gave another soft laugh. "You sound almost exactly like Starscream. It's along the same lines as what he told me." He grimaced at her comment, but didn't deny it. But Alexis didn't miss the look that crossed his face. "Do you believe me now?" she asked.

He knew full well what she was asking. "You know I can never trust the bastard, Alexis. Some wounds just go too deep to heal."

"Do you trust me?" she asked, looking at him deeply, the remnants of her tears still glistening at the corners of her eyes. "And I'm not asking as 'friend-to-friend' either, but 'professional-to-professional,'" she added quickly.

Coldstone did not reply at first, but he did continue to look back into her eyes. It was a hard question, a deep question and though Alexis did not mean for it to affect their friendship, it did no matter his answer. She was in-effect asking whether or not he thought her leadership was effective and to be completely honest—he just wasn't sure. After all, it was through her influence that Starscream was still alive, but on the other hand and just as weighty, it was that very same reason the remainder of their squadron was still around to talk about it. Dear God! What a conundrum! But he had to give her an answer.

Coldstone sighed, the breath heavy and not even close to relating how he felt. "As my superior officer and mission commander, it is…my duty…to follow your orders and commands. I may not always agree with them, but on my honor, I will follow them."

Alexis nodded her head. It was a vague kind of answer, but probably as close to an admission of willingness to go along as she was ever going to get. She lowered her head and nodded as a sign of understanding. Then she felt a pair of strong hands gently embrace her shoulders and draw her close. Alexis didn't resist, didn't baulk but allowed him to comfort her. She rested her forehead in the hollow of his collarbone, vaguely aware as his hands slid down her shoulders and around her waist, gently pulling her body against his. It felt strange…strange and oddly enough, relieving to be comforted like this. As the squad's leader, Alexis hadn't fully realized just how heavy the burden of leadership had weighed upon her. Having Coldstone here, with her, supporting her, comforting her—she didn't feel all alone. It felt almost as if he were trying to share the burden with her. And coming from Coldstone…well, let's just say having his shoulder to cry on was the last thing she had expected.

* * *

"Where in the devil's name is she?" Brandingson muttered more to himself than to the other two individuals within the vast semi-emptiness of Hangar 3-Bravo. One of said individuals merely smirked, more than a little pleased with the Colonel's aggravation. The other man, a stocky, elder gentleman just continued to stare at the large, heap of greyed-out metal that filled almost half of the hangar's floor space.

Secretary of Defense John Keller had seen many strange and dangerous happenings during his lifetime. He had served as a career soldier in the US Army, serving as an artilleryman through much of Vietnam. Less than a year afterward, Keller crossed over to the "dark side" and became an officer, retiring from service with 22 years and the rank of colonel. Though retired, Keller was far from acquiescing to the pleas of a rocking chair. He continued to serve his country acting as diplomat, envoy, and advisor for various men of influence in the United States government, eventually working his way to Secretary of Defense. He was no stranger to the Cybertronians, Autobot or Decepticon, having seen the destruction each faction had wrought back in the early 80s. He had become intimately familiar with each major players' "fact sheet" knowing the more prominent alien soldiers as well as he would have an opposing human army's chain of command. The man had built quite a reputation for his alien diplomacy and intimate knowledge. But despite his best efforts, age was finally catching up with the former colonel, and he was approaching the tail-end of yet another career—that is until he received a phone call about a mysterious attack on the city of Caldera, and large metal giants falling from the sky.

He had dressed immediately, placed a few well-made phone calls of his own, one of which to old friend and former service member Colonel Brandingson, and flew straight to Caldwell Air Force Base.

Upon arrival he had been ushered straight to the hangar where Brandingson and one other man awaited him. Keller did not recognize the pilot that accompanied his friend, but then again there were a lot of young faces that he did not place these days. Much of his generation had already decided to draw Social Security after all. Brandingson had filled him in on the recent events, but it didn't escape Keller's attention that the colonel tacitly avoided telling him why the second man, the pilot, was present for these proceedings. He decided he would know soon enough.

Now they stood waiting patiently for the pilot who had so audaciously averted certain catastrophe. This whole wing had been seen more action in the span of a week than most units did in their lifetime. He could cut the captain some slack for tardiness just this once. So Keller continued to study the greyed body before him.

He recognized it as a Seeker, one of the Decepticon's classifications for aerial combatants. This particular one, however, had a distinct cone-shaped head and wings that trailed down the appendages. It was not one of the three most powerful lieutenants of the Decepticon Air Force. No, rumor had it those three died of injuries sustained during the Battle for Autobot City. But then again, those were rumors and they could be as rampant as stray bullets in a firing zone. Without seeing the colors it was hard for Keller to place this one's name.

"I'm sure she'll be along shortly, Jake," Keller replied after a while. "After all, this kid has just returned from a war zone; let's not forget that."

Brandingson sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I probably should have had her debriefed and checked out before calling her here." His eyes flicked nervously over to the still-silent, unflappable young man who had met him here. Seeing Starscream in human holoform gave the colonel the creeps, and seeing him so downright calm nearly gave him spasms. But he composed himself if only to not show weakness in front of the Decepticon. Inside he dreaded Keller's reaction to knowing just who that strapping young pilot actually was.

Keller continued to pace around the massive body, studying it in detail. Presently, the whining creak of an opening door drew everyone's attention. At the far eastern end, a tiny shaft of light split the dimness of the hangar before disappearing completely. The sharp _click-click _of heels bounced off the walls of the building as the newcomer approached, the sound growing louder and louder in the echoing confines.

Alexis walked straight up to Brandingson, her appearance absolutely perfect with no sign of the distress she had exhibited earlier—at least at first glance. Skulking on the edge of the shadows, Starscream regarded Alexis with studious blue eyes. Her heart rate was slightly elevated and under her immaculate facial covering, he detected the slightest hue of red within her skin. Even her eyes were slightly red and swollen, remaining evidence of a strong emotion that she had recently experienced. His human brow furrowed in puzzlement. What had happened during their brief separation?

"Captain Alexis O'Conner reporting as ordered, Sir!" The young pilot saluted smartly, waiting for her superior to return the courtesy.

"At ease, Captain," Brandingson replied. He motioned for her to follow him. "This is Secretary of Defense John Keller, both a good professional and personal friend to me."

"At ease, Captain O'Conner," Keller said, as Alexis once again saluted. "No need for courtesies here and now. I want to get straight to the issues at hand. Now Colonel Brandingson has informed me of what he knows happened today; I want to hear your take," the SecDef asked, studying the young pilot before him.

Alexis hesitated, unsure as to how to proceed. She didn't trust herself to not breakdown again; the memories were still raw and painful. She watched as both the Secretary's and the colonel's eyes averted to a point over her shoulder. Brandingson's eyes especially grew calloused. Suddenly she felt two hands lightly contact her shoulders and then slide away, the touch brief, somewhat startling, and completely spine-tingling.

"And who might you be, airman?" Keller asked, his tone sharp.

"An ally," Alexis heard the suave voice of Starscream reply. His eyes bored into Brandingson, cold and indecipherable.

Keller looked from Starscream to Brandingson in turn, brow furrowed in confusion.

The colonel sighed; he could not delay introductions anymore. "John, I'd like for you to meet someone of…great tactical importance," Brandingson said, not missing the smug arrogance flick across the Decepticon's countenance. He sighed. _God help us all._ "This man standing before you is Decepticon Aerial Commander Starscream, sir."

At first Keller did not respond, but then his gaze jumped from the newly introduced pilot and back to Brandingson. "Did you just say 'Starscream'? As in _the_ Starscream?" He asked disbelief lacing his voice. "I thought he was dead?"

"So did I," Brandingson muttered.

"Good to see that you remember me, human," Starscream said, crossing his arms over his chest. Alexis remained silent next to him, watching the exchange with cautiousness.

"Jake this better not be some sort of sick joke, because if it is…"

"Your subordinate is not _joking_, fleshbag, and neither am I when I say you are all testing my patience." The holoform's eyes flashed a bloody crimson and he took a step forward, but a feather-light touch on his arm halted any forward motion. He glanced at Alexis, angry at her interference, but he felt his anger temper just a little at the unspoken request in her eyes. He brushed her hand from his arm and continued to stare fiercely at the two insects facing him.

"Dear God in Heaven above," Keller whispered, "It _is_ you. But how?"

"Long story," Brandingson supplied, "I can fill you in on the details later. For now just know that what you're speaking to is a hologram—"

"A physical projection of constrained energy to help me navigate within human society more easily," Starscream interrupted, "but as the colonel stated, my presence here can be explained another time."

Keller narrowed his gaze. "No," he said evenly. "I want to know how in the hell you're here _now_. After all this time; it was rumored you were killed. Or is it that I am happening to be conversing with a ghost?"

The holoform grinned menacingly. He liked this human. He was not one to be put off by puny excuses. Much courage this one, but it was courage such as that as to what killed good soldiers.

"I would say that would be an accurate assessment, fleshling," he growled, the smirk never leaving his lips. "Primus has a very twisted sense of humor, it would seem. After the Great Battle, I took control of the Decepticons only to be murdered by Galvatron shortly thereafter--a filthy, decrepit slag heap, that deserves to go back to the Pit from whence he came," he paused, "And I will be the one to send him there.

I do not know how my Spark survived, but it did and I spent many stellar cycles wandering the stars before I returned here, to your pathetic, dirt-covered planet. And with the help of dear, sweet Alexis here, I was able to reclaim one of your aircraft and rebuild a body for myself." He petted the girl's shoulder for emphasis; Alexis lowered her eyes, unable to return the stare Keller gave her.

Keller crossed his arms, forehead wrinkled in thought. "And just _why _are you here, Starscream? Past experience tells me you never do anything for anyone else without receiving something in return--and to stoop to talking with us lowly organic life forms, I imagine you're feeling pretty desperate."

Starscream snarled, "If anything you will be the one feeling pretty desperate before too much longer!"

Keller didn't flinch although he took note of the veiled threat. On the outside he maintained his cool composure, but on the inside he was reeling from this unexpected development—Starscream alive, after all these years! One of the nastiest Decepticons he had ever studied. Deceitful, greedy, rebellious, arrogant, unscrupulous--one of the most powerful and evil enemies man had ever faced. His sudden civility had put the Secretary on edge. And just who was this Galvatron he had spoken of?

"Mr. Keller," Alexis' voice broke into the fray. "I know Starscream doesn't have a very good track record when it comes to helping humanity, but if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here speaking with you right now. He killed this Decepticon," and she pointed at Thrust's greyed body. "For what it's worth, he kept seven other men, including myself, from dying today."

The Secretary of Defense leveled the young woman with a hard, piercing stare. "If any of what has been said thus far is true, your position with humanity is somewhat doubtful as well, Captain."

Alexis was stung, deeply, by his words, but she held her tongue; now was neither the time nor the place to play the "blame game." She did not see the flash of anger flicker across Starscream's human features.

"Give me one good reason why I should not order these men to destroy you on sight," Keller demanded, eyes once more focusing on Starscream. "You've given my planet and my people nothing but grief and sorrow since you first stepped foot here; why should I expect any different?"

A very thin, veiled membrane of self control was all that stood between Starscream and his desire to rip this human apart with his hands. It appeared prudence was not in this organic's vocabulary. It certainly was being quickly erased in his own. But he held his tongue; this human's authority played a crucial role in determining whether or not his "offer" would be accepted. Finally he replied, "Galvatron."

"You mentioned him just before."

"It is my belief that Galvatron is planning a major assault against this planet. I'm not too inclined to let that happen."

"And who is this Galvatron? I don't recall his name in our database."

Starscream's normally icy blue eyes, turned into a brooding crimson, before resuming their icy hue. "You would remember him better as 'Megatron'. He has been rebuilt and reformatted into a new body. He is not as you would remember him."

John Keller mulled over this new information with hooded eyes. If Megatron was back, it spelled big trouble for all of them. "Is he as powerful as he was before?"

"More so," Starscream replied coolly. "An ionized blast from Megatron's fusion cannon at close range would have rendered me combat-ineffective for at least two solar weeks on your planet." He would know; Primus only knew how many times it had happened. "When Galvatron appeared at my coronation ceremony he disintegrated my body with one blast."

Keller was silent once more. This was very grave news indeed, but how much of this information could they trust? Confirmation with the Autobots would definitely have to be arranged, not to mention the fallout that would occur when they discovered one of their old nemeses was supposedly back from thr dead. But there were so many variables in play now. Could they trust this information? Could they afford to trust Starscream? Could they afford _not _to trust Starscream? If an attack was coming, how much time did they have? What would be the first target? Why was Starscream all of sudden so willing to provide aide? What did he have to gain? He voiced this last question out loud. "Why help us now? You never cared what happened to this planet before. What's in it for you, Starscream?"

"Your subtlety astounds me," Starscream sniped, but he continued, "I want reclamation, John Keller."

Reclamation? He already had a body; what else could Starscream desire? "The Decepticons?"

The holoform nodded.

"Never gonna happen. For all we know, you'll just turn around and finish whatever this Galvatron fellow starts. Unacceptable," Keller said firmly, eyeing the holoform steadily.

"Perhaps," Starscream shrugged casually. "But in any event, you will need my assistance and I am giving your people an opportunity to end this war once and for all. Without me, you may survive for a little while, but ultimately Galvatron will destroy you all. At least with me, you have one combatant that _cannot die_. So one way or another, _I will _prevail.

Our war has raged for millennia and unless Galvatron is stopped it could continue for many more millennia—a short span of time for us, an eternity of passage for you should your species even live that long. If I take over the Decepticons, I will end this conflict permanently. So long as Galvatron is on-line our two factions will fight until none are left, an outcome I do not view with favor—so take your pick John Keller. A guaranteed eternity of death, destruction, war, and bloodshed so long as Galvatron leads the Decepticons or," he paused, staring straight and unwaveringly into the human's eyes, "allow me the opportunity to reclaim my rightful place as leader."

Keller sighed heavily and turned to stare at the lifeless shell that was Thrust. So many questions, so many unknowns. "Why even help us, Starscream? You said it yourself—you cannot die. Why not take out this Galvatron yourself? Why even factor us into the picture?"

They were straight and fair questions. Questions that all of them—Brandingson, Alexis, Keller—had considered. Was there a catch and if so what would be the cost?

For the first time that evening, the Seeker hesitated in his answer. So much had changed; so much had changed so quickly, even he wasn't sure quite where he stood in the grand scheme of things. Why was it that he still existed? Was it a punishment? A second opportunity to further his former agenda? Or a prospect to start something new? Also, Keller had raised a very good point. _Why _ally himself with the humans? It had been a question that he had been persecuting himself over since coming here, since deciding to stay, since he had saved Alexis on their first encounter with Thrust and Dirge. Technically, he _could_ destroy Galvatron from within, but at what cost? His former comrades would either revolt against him or cower in fear at his return to power. Though the latter action sounded as sweet as candied energon, Starscream couldn't help but feel it would be a hollow victory. And then he realized just why it was he needed the humans. It came to him as clear and crystal as the finest glass, a revelation that had always been hiding just under the surface, as if submerged in water. And the key to this revelation was Alexis. Through her Starscream had seen that though much could be accomplished through fear and coercion, so much more could be achieved when the other party was a willing constituent. Her fear of him in the beginning was the only reason she had obeyed, but now? When that fear had waned and understanding had shone through, the human girl had stuck with him, not out of fear, but out of a willingness of trust the Seeker had never before been the recipient. Thundercracker and Skywarp had tried to give him the same, only he had been too blind by greed and lust to see it. Over time their friendship had deteriorated and turned into a bitter reluctance, eventually terminated by his own hand. In the end, they had only obeyed him out of duty, not respect and certainly not from trust. The memory of what he had had and lost do to his selfishness left Starscream feeling embittered and bereft.

But now, he had a chance to right things. With the humans and potentially even the Autobots backing him, he could oust Galvatron for all to see—no subtlety, no deception, no deceitful, underhanded methods to power. He would have allies, he would have that respect and more importantly he would have honor—something that had not been associated with Seekers since before the Golden Age of Cybertron. Power wasn't honor, but honor was power in and of itself. Trust was power and trust was the foundation of alliances. Humans were weak, sure; but as he had realized through Alexis, physical strength was not the only factor for consideration.

'_You __trust__ me?'_

'_I want to.' _Those words echoed like the gonging of a bell. No one had ever wanted to trust him before. It was a strange and unique feeling.

"Secretary Keller," Starscream began slowly, "I cannot expect you to understand how I've come to my new position in this life." His eyes glanced to Alexis. "But it is not often one is given a second chance after death. We do not know what we have truly lost until it is no longer there and even then we may still be blind. For me, it took death itself so that I could begin to understand this, and it took the faith of one of your own," he paused gazing at Alexis, "to help me realize there are other avenues to power and leadership, avenues that do not require debauchery." Alexis blushed a vivid crimson at the sudden attention Starscream had bestowed upon her.

Keller continued to stare at Starscream intently. He could detect no form of deceit in the Seeker's words, but past experience with the Decepticon was hard to overlook. He couldn't help but feel there was an element of truth in Starscream's words, but still this negotiation would require much deliberate thought with a few more minds. It just seemed too good to be true. As he had heard in a movie, 'one good deed does not excuse a lifetime of wickedness.' On the other hand, if Starscream's information proved accurate and another assault by Decepticon forces was in the future, it would be very advantageous indeed to have a former enemy commander on their side.

"I'll tell you what, Commander Starscream, I will take your offer into consideration. This matter must be brought before the President and as you've probably considered, the Autobots." He looked to Thrust's hulking form. "Your actions over the past few days will also be deeply considered. I must be leaving now, but might I ask you to remain here on this base until we can arrange a formal meeting with the Autobots?"

Starscream visibly winced. The Autobots would be none too pleased to hear of his return. Slag, it wouldn't surprise him one iota if they tried to terminate him—not that that would do any good. Working with his old enemies would take some getting used to. "Very well, but know this, human. At the first sign of hostility from either you or the Autobots, I will not hesitate to defend myself…by any means necessary."

"Understood. I will contact Col. Brandingson as soon as I receive word back. Good day." John Keller gave a curt nod and turned to leave, Brandingson following not far behind.

As the door to the hangar closed with a loud clatter, Alexis released her breath. She hadn't even realized she had been holding it. "Well, that went better than expected," she said softly.

Starscream nodded in agreement, "So it would seem." He turned to look at her. "It appears that I am in your debt, Alexis O'Conner."

"What do you mean? The only thing I've done was allow my jet to push me around like a schoolyard bully."

He chuckled softly. "You underestimate yourself. Do you remember me asking you why it was you were helping me?"

Her brow wrinkled ever so slightly. "Yes."

"And you said that you believed it was not often we are given a second chance in life." She nodded slowly, eyes never leaving his own. "As you may know, I had two wingmates once—Skywarp and Thundercracker." Starscream's eyes took on a dream-like appearance, memories he thought he would never consider again, resurfacing. "They trusted me in the beginning, and like a true fool, I denounced their trust and attributed it to weakness. I believed that the only one I could depend on was myself and being a high-ranked official in the Decepticons, I did not want anyone to have an edge over me. As a result of my distrust and foolishness, I lost the only two mechs that I could have ever come close to calling confidants. We were wingmates for countless orns, could predict each other's movements within nanoseconds, but our comradery ended off the battlefield. It wasn't until I came here and witnessed such trust and devotion between you and your subordinates that I realized what it was I had and then lost. I know now that trust is not a weakness, but a strength."

His eyes refocused once more on the Air Force officer before him; he gripped her lightly above the elbows and perhaps for the first time, Alexis did not resist. "I will _not_ make the same mistake again." And then he leaned down, one hand coming up from behind to gently push her into him. He kissed her lightly at first, unsure as to her reaction. But Alexis did not object and her gentle acceptance ignited a fire deep within his spark. He pressed against her harder, his grip becoming tighter and his mouth hungry for more. He kissed her deeply, passionately—relishing in the softness of her skin, the faint scent of lilac tinting her hair. Having her this close to him, so willing, only stoked the flames deep within, a passion so hot with desire that it could only compete with his love of the sky.

After several long seconds, Alexis finally broke their kiss, gasping and breathless. She looked up at Starscream with something akin to shock and wonder. Had he just _kissed_ her? She gently placed a hand against his shoulder, feeling the taunt muscles from underneath—so real and yet surreal. The slight tingling on her lips further confirmed what had just happened. His hand gently came forward and brushed the underside of her jaw; she felt herself leaning into the touch—wanting it, craving it even. How could someone so renown for such hardness, such cruelty, be capable of such a touch? And then as quickly as it had begun, it ended. He was gone as if the whole incident never occurred, nothing before her but the dim emptiness of the hangar. But the lingering tingle on her lips and the gentle throbbing deep within her, told her otherwise.


	15. Pride and Prejudice

**A/N: I'm back…for now! *Snickers* Thanks for being so patient guys! I recently was boarded for the US Army and am now awaiting feedback to see whether or not I will indeed become a pilot. *Squees with joy* Keep your fingers crossed and pray for me; this is my life dream, but enough about me. This chapter is for YOU! Awaiting you is Decepticon humor, my signature aerial descriptions, and more romantic intrigue! Oh, and just so you know, I did borrow a maneuver from Maverick's play book in the movie, "Top Gun." Kudos to those of you who spot it!**

**Chapter 15: Pride and Prejudice**

An uneasy peace had settled over Caldwell in the events leading up to and the departure of Secretary of Defense John Keller. By this time every single member of the base either knew of or went to catch a glimpse of their now infamous, inter-stellar refugee. At first Starscream had tolerated their fleeting looks with more patience than he ever would have hoped to have in the past. Things had more or less ground to a stand-still until word returned from Mr. Keller; there was little the Seeker could do but wait. But as time began to increase, and one day became two and two days became four, Starscream found himself growing more and more irritable. He had not seen Alexis at all during the length of that time and her prolonged absence was beginning to grate on him. To go and seek her out was a very tantalizing option, but Starscream knew that in doing so, he could potentially push her away and destroy any and all trust between them. Just the thought of doing so was enough to keep the Seeker in place. The dark, compressing confines of the aircraft hangar did not ease his ill-will either. He craved the open air, especially after the oppressive, lengthy discussion with the secretary. But in the event that if Alexis came looking for him, he did not want to be errant. And so his frustrations continued to build, his inborn, insatiable need for flight contesting his overwhelming, overpowering desire of attraction. At least he had semi-private quarters to mull and strategize his next move. After the meeting, Starscream had more or less claimed Maintenance Hangar Delta for his own personal use and while several humans had objected, not many were too inclined to argue with him, especially after Col. Brandingson settled the matter. It wasn't until a small group of young airmen decided to have a little "fun" that the lid to Starscream's powderkeg-like temper blew.

There were four of them, two airmen and two airmen first class, young humans by any standard; the oldest being 20, the youngest had just celebrated his 18th birthday. Now these young soldiers had heard many urban stories surrounding the Transformers, and after having joined the Air Force, more than their fair share had centered on the notorious Decepticon Command Trine. Hosting the notorious Air Commander Starscream on their home turf only served to whet their insatiable curiosity to see just how true the stories could be.

It was a late Friday evening and most of the personnel had dispersed to attend to their family dinners or, in the singles' case, to begin a wild weekend out in the nearby town of Dawson. Security was still high at Caldwell, but with no further confirmation of threats, base command had loosened the reins just a bit in order to help ease the tension. An after-action investigation would later reveal the whole incident had been based on a dare. None of the boys had ever seen a Transformer up close; these particular four had been stationed quite a ways away during the fracas earlier that week. Having gotten an early jump on their weekend, the eldest of the group wanted to go see the notorious "Angel of Death" himself; the others had agreed it was a worthwhile endeavor; little would they realize it would be a life-changing endeavor.

A1C Thompson slowly opened the hangar bay access door, ushering in his comrades with a quick gesture. The other three shuffled in, sniggering quietly amongst themselves, bright, slightly bloodshot eyes straining to see in the darkness. A large, darkened mass occupied the far corner of the hangar, sitting quietly, wheels chocked like any other grounded aircraft.

"Are you sure this is it?" Airman Cook whispered to Thompson.

"Sh-ure I'm sure," Thompson said, words slightly slurred with drink. "That's 'im over there." He pointed a bony finger in the jet's direction. "Got 'ose magnets?"

"Right here!" the other airman, Langley spoke up.

"Good."

Together the four humans fumbled up to the jet, chuckling and snickering softly. It wasn't like they were going to permanently deface the aircraft. That's what the magnets were for. If it turned out to be _him_, it would be well worth the effort. If it wasn't, then no harm, no foul—or so they thought.

"I don't think it's him," A1C Shepherd piped up. Of the four, he was the most reserved and wary of their little venture. "This jet don't look nothing like the pictures; it's all grey."

"Oh, it's him all right," Thompson confirmed, "ain't nobody been in this hangar since Monday night and it used to be the busiest shop on base. He's probably just sleeping or something, you know, whatever robots do to sleep 'n shit. Get me that ladther."

Langley and Cook fumbled with the deck ladder, their inebriated state causing more than a little raucous within the hangar. "Shhhshhfff! Quiet! He's sleepin'! Don't wake 'im!" Cook scolded his partner as they placed the ladder against the Eagle's fuselage.

"Here. Gimme those magnets," Thompson demanded. Langley complied, handing, two large Autobot-faced magnets to his self-proclaimed leader. He took a couple of steps up the rungs and then turned to face his awe-struck comrades. "This is gonna be some funny shit, man! Just you watch! This will be hilarious!"

"Oh, I couldn't agree more."

Thompson wheeled back around. The three boys on the ground were looking bewilderedly about. Shepherd was already taking several, fearful steps backward.

"Did you say that?"

"We didn't say anything!" Cook said, waving his hands back and forth.

"No, but I DID!" the voice rang out again. Suddenly the metal skin of the jet's fuselage seemed to ripple like mercury. It then split apart and began to shift—forwards, backwards, left, right, in and out. The ladder that had been propped against the side rocked back and forth, a terrified Thompson clinging to the rungs like a pale white gecko until the ladder finally tilted over backward, spilling him on the floor. By this time his terrified compatriots had already abandoned him, making a beeline for the door.

They didn't get very far.

A wall of fist-like metal slammed into the cement before them, cutting them off from any avenue of escape. Behind them, the hulking, robotic form of Starscream rose up from the ground, his optics glinting with angry malice. In the other hand he already held a petrified A1C Thompson, who had passed out from fear.

Langley gulped loudly, unable to take his eyes off the massive metal devil before him. "We're in big trouble now!" he whispered hoarsely to Cook, who was too tongue-tied to agree.

Starscream smirked evilly. "You have no idea, fleshling."

* * *

The next morning Sgt. Darrell "Crowbar" was in need of some fresh hydraulic fluid. It was stored in a separate store room just off of Maintenance Hangar Delta. However, it was only accessible from within. Sliding open the large bay door, the sergeant nimbly stepped inside only to be greeted by the most bizarre sight he had ever seen in all his years of service to his country. Four airmen were dangling precariously from the rafters of the massive hangar, each one bound and gagged with dirty oil rags. A ladder had been placed between two of the rafters from which dangled four, short chains. Each chain was tethered an exact distance from the other, resulting in a perfectly balanced four-way, puppet display—and the airmen were the puppets. Each chain was hooked into the back of each airman's ABUs; Crowbar didn't even want to think how that felt.

Four pairs of desperate eyes looked imploringly at him, one airman even going so far as to start swinging on his tether. He began to twist about, having no control over his motions, much like a pendant on a swinging necklace. He bumped unceremoniously into one of his buddies, causing that one too, to begin to swing.

The staff sergeant just shook his head and then looked to the large F-15 Eagle sitting innocently at the far end of the hangar. His sharp blue eyes spotted two patches of red laying at the base of the front nose gear; even from this distance he could see exactly what each splotch of red happened to be. He shook his head once more and stepped forward, nearly stumbling across the large indention in the hangar's floor.

Gritting his teeth, Crowbar regained his footing and gave the four airmen his best "you-are-in-so-much-shit!" look. "Just couldn't resist, could you? You bunch are lucky. You should see what he does to clipboards," he mumbled to no one in particular, not expecting nor receiving an answer.

* * *

Four days. It had been four days since the kiss, four days since she last saw Starscream. In all honesty, Alexis had half-expected him to come for her, to tail her, stalk her, whatever name you wanted to put with the action. But he hadn't and in a small way she was relieved. The four days of rest had been badly needed. She and Clarissa had used the time to stock up on supplies from the BX, catch up with family and even enjoy a girl's night out on the town. The girls figured it would be the best way to try and move on after their friends' deaths. A mass service had been held, in which the remaining members had attended. It was like reliving the battle all over again for both Tomcat and Alexis. The night out had been good therapy. She had had a good time enjoying Clarissa's company, but through it all, the nagging memory of what had happened after Keller's meeting continued to torment her. Ultimately, she knew she would have to face him again; she couldn't avoid him forever.

But Starscream wasn't the only one she had been purposely avoiding. Ever since then, she had been studiously avoiding Coldstone as well. Was it guilt? Shame? Fear? She didn't know, nor did she want to know. It was only by sheer fortune that her fellow pilot had been called to administrative duties this week and was currently waste deep in "queep." She was very well aware of Jerry's feelings towards her and it made the pilot uncomfortable to say the least. First of all, he was her subordinate, officer though he may be. Second was the fact it was Coldstone; she still couldn't quite believe how they had gone from unrelenting rivals to close confidants. It baffled her to say the least. Finally there was the issue of Starscream. Alexis knew her wingman would never trust the Decepticon, and probably rightfully so. But the fact that Starscream was showing such a peculiar interest in her only compounded the problem. If Coldstone ever found out…Alexis shuddered to think about it.

Amidst all these feelings and emotions that had come to pass, Alexis tried not to reflect on her own, but she was quickly discovering it was a losing battle. On one hand she had Coldstone: human, fellow airman and patriot, a damn good pilot, one of the best in the service. He was handsome, vivacious and full of piss and vinegar, as the saying went. He was full of pride, perhaps too full and fiercely devoted to her safety and well-being, as a good wingman should be. He wanted to be more to her and she knew it, but Alexis just wasn't as sure of herself anymore.

Then there was Starscream, a completely unexpected and totally unforeseen wild card. He…well, he certainly wasn't human, but nor did he feel alien to her either. He had been cruel, deceitful, coercive and even threatening, but over time she had seen a change in him. He had claimed it was her doing, but she couldn't believe it was totally her fault. Alexis couldn't imagine being a ghost, what it would feel like seeing life pass before you unable to touch it or interact with it. She knew his time wandering the universe must have had some sort of profound effect on his thinking; he had said as much. One measly little human couldn't have changed him _that_ quick. But the fact that he _had_ changed—that was something worth noting. She had seen it, witnessed it, _felt_ it. But no one else seemed willing to give the Seeker that second chance, and because of that, Alexis felt it was her duty to continue to stand by him. But that obligation was beginning to blur and melt into something completely different, something Alexis had totally not expected. And she feared just where this new avenue could lead…the implications, the consequences…the possibilities.

Presently she was curled up on her couch trying to engross herself within a novel. She wasn't having much luck. And as luck would have it, she didn't have to sit chained to her tormented thoughts for very long. Her cell rang with a loud clatter, preventing her from finishing the last sentence of the fifth paragraph she had only read for the fourth time over.

"Hello…Oh hey, Crowbar! What's happening?" she said cheerfully, relieved for the temporary distraction; however, her relief quickly dissipated.

"He did _what!?" _she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. "Are they OK?...Oh really?" Her face began to relax. She stifled a little snort. "Kinda serves them right, dontcha think? Did they honestly think they'd get away with _that?_" She paused face frowning with uncertainty. "He does? When? Today!? A little short on notice here. No, no I'm not refusing…it's just sudden, that's all. Have the others been contacted?" She closed her eyes. "All right. I'll be down shortly."

Alexis gently slapped the phone shut and leaned back against the couch's plush cushions. She should have known that she couldn't avoid either one of them for long; now it appeared like she was going to have to face them both at the same time. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Time to face the music.

* * *

Crowbar was waiting for her outside the hangar. "Good to see you make it, Spades," he greeted, one eyebrow raised in a curious manner.

"Like I had a choice," she muttered, adjusting the straps to her G-suit one last time. Crowbar chuckled softly.

"Hey, not my call either, Cap. But I'm inclined to agree with Brandingson: the maintenance guys will be able to work a hell of a lot faster without a giant robot peering over their shoulders. Oh, and speaking of which: tell your metallic friend to please refrain from putting any more holes in my hangar. I've got enough on my plate as it is."

Alexis smiled slightly. "Can't tell him yourself, Crow?"

"Are you shittin' me? And risk losing another clipboard!? No, sir-ee, Spades! He's your problem; you deal with it!"

Alexis' grin grew a little wider. She just shook her head and began to walk towards the hangar.

"Oh, uh, not that way, Spades," Crowbar spoke out, this time somewhat hesitantly.

"He's in there, isn't he?" she asked, puzzled and just a little irritated.

Crowbar just scratched his head and pointed feebly behind her; suddenly she was engulfed in shadow. Spinning around, she stared up at the immense, powerful Decepticon. A swift burst of butterflies erupted in the pit of her stomach at his quiet and unexpected appearance. Just his height and size was enough to make her nervous, but with everything that had taken place in the past week, his intimidating presence made her more than a little skittish. His dark, metal lip components were pulled up into a one-sided smirk and his optics shone with a dark kind of mirth. She recognized that look. She had seen it before…

"You won't be flying with me today, Captain," he said silkily, crossing his arms over his gleaming cockpit. The two arm-mounted cannons glinted like polished diamond in the bright afternoon light as he moved his arms.

Alexis' brows furrowed in puzzlement. "What do you mean?" She knew she hadn't misunderstood Crow's cell call. He had explicitly said they would be flying, on short notice, today. It felt awkward to still call Starscream her jet, but nevertheless they were partnered together by necessitation, weren't they?

"Not today, Spades," a new voice called from across the tarmac. Brandingson was jogging slowly across the pavement in their direction. "You and the rest of the crew will be flying escort today." About this time the rest of the pilots came jogging up, the rings and straps on their suits clanking and fluttering with the motion. Scorch and Tomcat both had eager grins on their faces, but Coldstone appeared more reserved and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Brandingson continued, "Our 'friend' here has informed me that he dislikes being ground-bound for extended amounts of time; it makes him cranky."

Starscream frowned at the colonel's blunt words but maintained his silence.

"So as it stands, you four are the only flight-worthy pilots remaining that know of his existence and we can't risk bringing in any other squadrons until we hear back from Mr. Keller. But nor am I about to let the jolly jet here go gallivanting across our airspace." He glanced up at Starscream, "You understand protocol, I'm sure."

Starscream's frown deepened.

"So for today, while the Seabees are repairing our maintenance hangar I want you four to play escort. Understood?"

A chorus of "Yes, sir" echoed across the tarmac.

"Very well. Have a good flight ladies and gents." Brandingson gave them a curt nod for dismissal. "Captain?"

"Yes, sir?" Alexis answered.

"We've brought in another jet for you to fly. If possible, I'd like for you to fly in that one from now on," Brandingson said over his shoulder as he walked away. _Translation: I don't want you getting any closer to that 'thing' than necessary, _Alexis thought to herself.

"As you wish, sir," she saluted briefly and then turned and trotted off to her new ride. She heard the others jog off to their respective planes and was even vaguely aware of hearing Starscream's transformation. It felt weird to say the least; being in a "normal" jet that is. She had spent so much of her time flying in Starscream, that she half expected this jet to up and start speaking with her. But it didn't; the control panel flickered dumbly at her and the speakers remained oddly silent. The tightening of the straps was of her own doing and for a brief moment she had to remember to do her pre-flight check, something she hadn't to have needed to do in a long while. Something that had been so normal, so routine for her in the past, now felt foreign and oddly out of place. She glanced up, watching as her fellow squadmates, underwent the same procedures, none of them feeling the discomfort she now felt. She turned her head around, eyeing Starscream as he sat idly on the tarmac, his bright, almost garish color-scheme shimmering in the heat of the day. She knew he had to have been frustrated with her. So how would that play out in the exercises ahead?

"_Eagle one-niner and Eagle two-zero you are cleared for take-off, over,"_ her radio crackled to life. Alexis sighed. _I guess we'll see if he really is mad at me. Hope he doesn't decide to shoot us all out of the sky,"_ she thought wryly.

"_Roger that, Tower. Eagle one-niner and two-zero now approaching the runway,"_ Alexis radioed back. She gave her crew the thumbs-up and returned their salute, moving her bird out toward the cleared runway. Beside her, her wingman for this exercise, Tomcat, easily followed suit. Alexis glanced over and saw that her friend was watching. They both exchanged nods. Alexis settled herself in her seat and slowly pushed the throttle forward, feeling the sheer power of the twin turbine engines race through the airframe. The Eagle leaped forward eagerly eating up the runway in its attempt to free itself from the shackles of the ground. On her right wing, Tomcat kept pace, their synchronization near perfect. At the last minute, Alexis engaged her afterburners and pulled back sharply on the stick, the bird leaping off the tarmac and entering a near vertical climb. Together she and Tomcat raced into the clouds and entered a holding pattern, waiting for their fellow pilots to join them.

"_Ready for this?" _Tomcat asked over the radio.

"_What's there to be ready for?" _Alexis replied, _"What'll be, will be and there ain't a damn thing we can do about it except react."_

"_I guess that's one way to look at it. So what are the plans, Cap?"_

Alexis thought the question over for a minute, but before she could reply Starscream's raspy voice cut across her com frequency, "_Oh I was thinking of a little four-on-one. You four against me. Not that that is a challenge for me, but I'm curious to see where your skills lie."_

"_You've got some nerve, rustbucket," _Coldstone's voice cut in. _"I've been waiting to cross vapor trails with you."_

"_Enough all of you!" _Alexis all but shouted. "_Now that we are all airborne let's head out to the west target range. If Starscream wants a four-on-one then we'll give it to him."_

She edged her jet towards the front, the others falling in behind her in a flying V-formation, that is all the others with the exception of Starscream. The gleaming red, white and blue Eagle lazily flew above the formation, barrel-rolling slowly towards the front. With polished ease the Decepticon settled himself just ahead of Alexis. She repressed a grimace. Naturally. But deep inside, she was looking forward to this match-up. Just how good was he? Could she even compare? Would he retaliate for her ignoring him? It was time to find out.

"_Are you ready to begin, Starscream?" _Alexis asked after confirming their location.

"_I should like to ask you the same," _he easily replied back.

"_I'll take that as an affirmative," _Alexis confirmed. "_When you're ready."_

The words had no sooner left her lips when a tremendous sonic boom rattled her teeth. When next she could focus, Starscream's thrusters were but a pinprick of light disappearing rapidly in billowy, cumulus cloud cover several miles away.

"_All right boys! Let's get ready to party!" _Tomcat called over the frequency. She let out a short war whoop and banked hard to the left, feet off of Alexis' wingtip. Scorch and Coldstone did likewise only banking hard right. The games were about to begin.

* * *

Starscream had easily put several miles of airspace between himself and his would-be pursuers. This test, this "game," was but child's play to him. He knew the only reason Brandingson had granted him clearance was because the crusty colonel wanted him out from under foot. Although Starscream would differ on who was literally under whose feet at the moment. Nevertheless, he was pleased with the opportunity to stretch his wings and keep in practice. Not to mention this exercise would enable him to perform some vital reconnaissance on his human counterparts. What little flying he and Alexis had done together left much to be desired to sate his curiosity over her flight aptitude; after all, he had performed most of the flying. No, if he was going to ally himself with these insects against Galvatron then he needed an accurate first-hand assessment of their capabilities. Though the humans' skills were pathetically transparent against those of a Seeker, any little advantage he could teach Alexis would be greatly underestimated by their enemies and might give her a slim chance at survival. But whether other humans would be willing to learn from a hardened, cold-blooded alien invader he surely doubted.

His thoughts instantly turned to Coldstone. That human would be most troublesome. He would need to be dealt with and shortly. Perhaps today he would be able to teach that arrogant insect a lesson in humility. A feeling of smugness washed over his frame even as the cool water droplets within the clouds did likewise. Air superiority was such a wonderful feeling.

Gunning his engines, Starscream turned and banked hard to the right, completing a tight 180 degree turn and turning the hunters into the hunted.

* * *

"_I don't see that son of a bitch! Where the hell is he?" _Coldstone fumed over his squadron's frequency.

"Easy killer," Scorch soothed, while stifling a chuckle, "_'Good things come to those who wait' ya know."_

"_Yeah well in this line of work waiting too long might put you on the receiving end of a missile too."_

"_We're not using live weapons, 'Stone,"_ Scorch reminded his wingman.

'Maybe not now,' Coldstone thought to himself, but he didn't have long to think about it for Tomcat's voice cut across his musings.

"_I've got a visual! Target is twelve o'clock and closing fast! Break! Break! Break!"_

Alexis and Clarissa had been patrolling the western quadrant when they received the contact. But Starscream was moving so fast and so aggressively none of their systems had time to get a lock. On her wingman's command, Alexis pushed the stick forward and entered a steep dive, gaining crucial speed with every foot of descent. She glanced upward and saw a gleaming streak of silver shoot over her canopy and bank hard to the right, the same direction Tomcat had taken. She snapped her oxygen mask in place, pulled back on the stick and began her pursuit.

"'_Stone, Scorch! He's tracking Tomcat. 'Cat, Alpha-Bravo-Charlie. Do you copy?"_

"_I copy. Alpha-Bravo-Charlie confirmed,"_ Clarissa reiterated. 'A-B-C…' she thought, pushing her bird to its limit and weaving back and forth. Behind her Starscream mimicked each maneuver, drawing closer and closer with each passing second. She glanced over her tailfins. Hiding a smirk she pulled back on the stick, feeling her craft slow with the ascent. She then dipped the stick forward, the acceleration nearly immediate. She repeated the maneuver a second time, making her ascent steeper. Just as she hoped, the rolling maneuver forced her pursuer to overshoot his prey, the abrupt changes in altitude and speed too much to compensate for. Starscream shot underneath of her, putting himself squarely within her sights.

"Best Decepticon flyer my ass," she whispered as the targeting reticule flashed from green to red. Her finger brushed the red button on the stick that would trigger the laser and therefore end the exercise. But suddenly a loud droning filled the cockpit and the annoying computerized voice filled her ears.

_Target lost._

At the same time her silvery dot of target suddenly barrel rolled to the left with such velocity that, at first, Clarissa thought he had lost control. She banked to follow, trying hard to re-acquire the lock. She never got the opportunity. Starscream righted his roll, fired his afterburners and entered a bank so tight, Clarissa just knew the Seeker was going to stall at any moment. She gritted her teeth and tried to stick with the bank, but the _gs_ were proving too much on her body. With a fierce groan, Clarissa broke out of the bank and in the process lost her visual on Starscream.

"_He's_ _on your tail, 'Cat! Evade! Evade!"_ she heard a voice clamor, unable to tell just who it was. Her head whipped around to see that ghostly, silvery glint settle in on her six.

"Damn! How'd he do that!?" She yanked the stick sharply to left and back again, entering into a devious serpentine pattern in a mad attempt to lose her pursuer. _"Spades! I could really use a hand over here!" _she pleaded, glancing back frantically.

"_Don't worry, 'Cat. We're right on his six," _the cool, collected voice of Coldstone filtered over the radio. Beads of sweat raced down Clarissa's brow only to be absorbed in the increasingly moisturized lining of her helmet. She gripped the stick tighter, her knuckles aching under the strain. She just knew that at any moment her alarms would sound signaling a hit. Suddenly a flurry of vivid cursing erupted over the airwaves. Chancing a glance rearward, Clarissa was shocked to see not a soul behind her. Not even the glint of a cockpit marred the pristine sky as she stared with wide eyes behind her. She took a deep breath and slowly relaxed within her harness.

Starscream muttered a few choice curses of his own as he entered a steep climb, afterburners on full. He had that red-headed female in his sights--that is until the two males entered the fray. Very well. If they wanted to be the first ones out, who was he to disappoint?

His engines screamed with exhilaration as he climbed higher and higher. He knew the human pilots would not be able to follow for much longer. His self-imposed modifications allowed him to fly higher and faster than any current jet within use. Stoner had boasted of being the best pilot in the US Air Force; time for him to make due on that claim.

_Ahhhhcckk! I'm breaking off, Stone! I can't…I can't…keep…this…up!" _Scorch's tortured voice cracked over the radiowaves. Scorch banked off the intense climb, his vision splotchy with dark masses. He blinked several times trying to clear his sight as he leveled off his jet. Had Stoner followed him? He glanced around to see, but his wingman's bird was nowhere to be seen.

"Crazy fool," Scorch muttered to himself. "_Anybody got a visual on Coldstone?" _he queried, banking his jet and beginning a circular search pattern.

"_Negative."_

"_Negative, Scorch." _Scorch cursed vehemently. Looked like Stoner was on his own.

Meanwhile, Coldstone doggedly pursued his prey, fighting the blackout that plagued the edges of his vision. But that wasn't the greatest problem he faced. No, what Stoner was most concerned about was whether or not his jet could maintain such a steep angle of attack at the ever-increasing altitude. He felt his machine shudder and heard the engines hitch; glancing at his altimeter, Stoner saw they were quickly approaching the very outer reaches of his aircraft's ceiling limit. And Starscream was giving no indication of slowing his ascent. Another shudder, more violent than the last rocked the jet. Coldstone cursed, but pressed onward, determined not to give up.

"_Getting reckless aren't we?" The _suave, teasing tones of Starscream's voice floated across the radio.

"_Fuck you!"_ the pilot replied, gritting his teeth as another tremor rocked the jet.

"_You know you can't follow me. I can continue at this rate of climb straight into the outer reaches of space. Are you so willing to continue this folley?"_

Coldstone bit back another retort. Starscream was right and he was loathing admitting it. He couldn't continue this mad goose chase, but he could turn the tables. A lopsided grin split his lips as he thought about Starscream's greatest strength and his simultaneous weakness. It was true of any great pilot: their pride. Another violent tremor and an engine sputter sealed his decision.

"_Well just go ahead and continue right out into space, metal-head. Only a coward would continue to flee in the face of a lesser enemy. Are you a coward, Starscream? Do you have to run like a whipped dog with your tail between your legs in order to evade an insect like me? Some great skill! Is that how you killed our pilots? Did you run away, let your wingmates do your dirty work and then took the credit? Sounds about right if you ask me."_

An inhuman snarl of rage seared across Stoner's receiver. Coldstone grinned cruelly, _Mission accomplished!_ Without even bothering to check for pursuit, Coldstone pushed the stick forward and exited his climb. He also pushed the throttle forward gaining even more speed as he began to dive. Within milliseconds he was screaming toward earth, a loud boom signaling he had broken the sound barrier with ease. "_Attention all Eagles! Coldstone is bringing home the bacon!"_ he called excitedly over the radio, entering a lazy barrel roll as he descended.

There was no response.

"_Guys? Tomcat? Spades? Scorch? Anyone out there read me?" _Still no response. Static filled the airwaves. He glanced over his shoulder and was shocked to discover that Starscream was not there, as he had expected. _Son of a bitch._

Suddenly the radio crackled to life, garbled voices filtering in and out of the speakers.

"_He's…me!"_

"_Can't evade…longer!"_

"_On my…six! Can't shake…!"_

A cold chill racked Stoner's sweat-soaked body. This wasn't exactly what he had planned. Then Spade's voice came across the radio as clear as a bell, _"Coldstone, all three of us have been tagged out. You're on your own! We need to refuel. I'm calling an official end—"_ The radio went dead.

"_It's just you and me, insect."_

Suddenly a brilliant flash of purple laser shot across his right wingtip. Coldstone instinctively banked hard to the left. "_What the hell!? This isn't a live fire exercise!"_ he crowed loudly. "_Calling all Eagles! I'm taking live fire! Come in! Come in!" _Static filled his ears.

"_No one can hear you, meatsack. It is just you and I now! You question my abilities? You mock my skill? I've been flying since before your planet was nothing more than a molten piece of slag, you insolent derivative of a microscopic germ! You are not even worthy of gliding in my jet wash! Now you will experience first-hand why they call me the Prince of the Skies!" _Evil sounding laughter followed as the link was abruptly cut.

More laser fire erupted around Coldstone as he began to enter desperate evasive maneuvers to lose his pursuer. Sweat poured from his brow and his body ached from the intense strain of the _g_-forces as he dove, banked, rolled, and pitched in every direction possible. But each time he was met with a laser blast right over his left wing, or under his right wing, or at times directly above his canopy. No matter where he went, Starscream was there, on his six, relentlessly pursuing him and searing the surrounding air with laser fire. Desperation tried to clutch his heart, but Stoner continued to ignore it. Now was not the time to panic. He hadn't been struck yet, but Stoner really wasn't sure if it was due to his own maneuvering or Starscream's sick sense of humor. Yanking the stick once more, Coldstone entered a beautiful rolling bank to the right just as two laser blasts whipped over his left wing. A large blip appeared on his radar, temporarily distracting him.

All of a sudden, his jet shuddered violently as if it had hit a pocket of nasty turbulence. But Coldstone knew better. All around him little arcs of electricity jumped and danced across his control panel. His HUD went blank, the control lights darkened, and without further delay his engines spluttered and died. Cold dread welled up within him as he realized that he had been hit. The nose of his craft began to dip and the pilot struggled to keep the plane level. His first thought was to eject and his hand slowly reached for the ejection lever, but Starscream's cold, dispassionate voice seeped across the radio once more, despite there being no electrical power to any of the systems.

"_No need for that, Stoner. Your aircraft will have power in approximately five astro-seconds. You've only been hit with a mild blast from my null ray cannon. Rest assured I could have very easily made this desert your final resting place. Only the fact that I am so close to sealing a pact with your government has kept you from meeting your creator today. And should we ever cross airstreams in the battle come…well, let's just say that friendly fire…isn't."_

"_Is that a threat?" _Coldstone asked tersely, fingers fumbling at the switches even as the ground was rushing to meet him. He glanced upward, playing with the idea of ejecting again when he froze. Starscream flew directly above him, inverted, his holoform staring stonily down upon him. To eject now meant a sure-fire, mid-air collision. He could try to roll his own craft upside down, but with no hydraulics whatsoever, he could very well enter into an uncontrollable spin, making his escape even more perilous. At that moment the master power switch glowed to life.

"_Not a threat, a warning human. DO NOT ever insult me or my former wingmates ever again. Do not speak of that which you have no comprehension, or you will find yourself in the most inconvenient of circumstances." _

Coldstone flipped a few switches and breakers, watching with deep relief as the lights on his control panel glowed once more. The aircraft shuddered briefly as the engines came back online with a roar. He pulled up on the stick ending his death dive into the unforgiving desert. Starscream righted himself and settled right off of Stoner's left wingtip.

"_They'll turn you into scrap once I tell them what you did to me today."_

"_Your word against mine. Too bad there were not any witnesses. I took care of those before we began our little dance. Speaking of which, you might want to refuel as well. You should be running on vapors about now."_ Coldstone glanced at his fuel meter to see that, indeed, he was running on vapors. Looking at his radar he saw he wasn't very far from the air refueling plane either—the very same blip that had caused him distraction earlier. Damn if that Decepticon did not have timing! He looked over at the silver jet on his left wing.

The holographic representation of the Seeker flickered briefly and then to Coldstone's chagrin, flipped him the bird before disappearing completely. With a deafening roar, the silver Eagle ignited his afterburners and jetted away, disappearing into a distant cloud bank.

***Queep: military slang for senseless, idiotic, redundant, bureaucratic paperwork. Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to review.**


	16. The Phantom's Parley

**A/N: You asked for it, you got it! Starscream meets the Autobots! This is just an introductory chapter I'm sure more 'Bots will be making an appearance. I just can't help but notice how Starscream always seems to subtly highjack my conversations. Hmmm, sneaky Seeker! Hope this chapter is true to form and never fear! More StarscreamXAlexisXColdstone interactions to come!**

**Chapter 16: The Phantom's Parley**

"Thank you, Airman," Brandingson said tersely as the young woman delivered her message. He then turned to the Secretary of Defense to his right.

"They're here, sir."

"Good. Good," Keller replied, "I hope this meeting goes well, Colonel. I can't tell you how difficult it has been convincing our Congress and President that Starscream has returned, much less to our benefit. And running damage control with the Autobots has been touchy at best."

"I know, sir. If you don't mind my asking, how was the evidence of the Decepticon body received?"

Keller leveled a firm stare at the colonel. "Mixed," he said gruffly. "Some claimed it was hoax and that we're trying to stir up the foreign governments in another display of a power-play. Others are more open-minded and want further investigation. Congress was pretty equally divided. As for the President," Keller rolled his shoulders, "he's trying to look at this development from all angles. Although I will tell you this: those that do believe me and the evidence are highly critical of our Decepticon's motives. We all know that trustworthiness was not among Starscream's most enduring virtues and him killing a former comrade did more to harm his case than help it."

"Which Autobots will we be meeting, sir?"

Keller continued walking towards the hangar area, an entourage of guards flanking them as they strode onward. "I believe Springer and Arcee are here. Rodimus is still conducting crucial affairs back on Cybertron and Ultra Magnus is still out in Sector 49-Lima overseeing a solar energy harvest. Springer is our Cybertronian liaison of top-secret, high-profile matters and this is about as high-profile as we're going to get."

"How much have we disclosed to the Autobots?" Brandingson continued, tight lines creasing his forehead.

"They know we have Thrust's body, but we refused to divulge how we got the body unless they agreed to send a ranking officer ASAP. We didn't want to give away any more information than we had to electronically. After all, I don't recall that Decepticon Soundwave being on the KIA/MIA list."

"So they don't know that Starscream is here?" Brandingson asked, trying to get clarification.

"They know that we have someone from the Decepticons willing to exchange valuable intel for amnesty; that's all I was willing to give them over our communications."

Brandingson smiled, "You always were a sly one, John."

Keller chuckled, "Son, you don't live to make it to my position by playing chess with amateurs, you know." Now it was his turn to ask a question. "How do you think our guest will react?"

Brandingson allowed a grim smile to cross his face. "Ever cornered a wolverine before?" he countered.

"Point," Keller agreed, "I suggest you get on the horn and warn our boy that our visitors are here."

"Yes, sir," Brandingson said, motioning to one of the guards. He wondered if the jets were within range of the tower yet.

* * *

"_Coldstone! What the hell happened back there!" _Alexis demanded angrily.

Coldstone grinned wryly to himself, remembering what Starscream had said. "_Sorry, Cap. Radio cut out." _Not a whole truth, but not an entire lie either.

"_For five minutes!" _came the angry retort.

The pilot grimaced. Not much if anything got by his captain. More than likely, no matter what he said in his defense, Alexis would seek a full and complete answer for his actions. On the other hand, Starscream would probably get the same treatment. In fact he would make sure of it.

"_Yes ma'am. Might want to talk to our 'friend,'" _he drawled emphatically, "_he might know what happened. Coldstone out."_

Alexis growled to herself in frustration. Of course. Speaking of the devil, where in the hell was Starscream? She glanced around the cockpit in a quick sweep of the sky. Was he even in visual…Wait. There he was, 270 degrees due west. The unpredictable Decepticon was a silver speck in the western sky. From this distance he appeared like a silver dot, tracing lazy loop-de-loops and circles across the azure sky. Wispy contrails followed his every maneuver, creating a complex menagerie of polygons, lines, and parabolas. _I should have known,_ she thought. It had been too much to hope for, that Coldstone and Starscream would not be at each other's throats for at least one exercise. She was just about to radio the Con and call him out on Coldstone's accusation when an unfamiliar voice cut across her radio.

"_Hawk Eye to Eagle One-Niner. Come in, over."_

'_Hawk Eye?'_ she thought to herself. That was the code name for Air Battle Control, the E-3 surveillance platform that usually guided her squadron and others to their objectives. What could _they_ possible want?

"_This is Eagle One-Niner reading you loud and clear, Hawk Eye. What do you need?"_

"_One-Niner, we need you and the crew to head back to base ASAP. Order authorization code Alpha-2-6-3-2, over."_

An alpha code; that meant the message was a priority alert…probably from Brandingson. We're too far out for the tower to reach us so he's relaying orders via the Sentry. In any event the authorization code has been used.

"_Roger that, Hawk Eye. Time is 1405. ETA to base is 20 minutes."_

"_Affirmative, One-Niner. We'll relay the meassage, over. Out."_

Alexis flipped to her squadron frequency. "_All right guys; time to wrap it up. We're needed back to the base ASAP. Last one there buys a round at Tracy's!" _Alexis added for extra incentive.

A flurry of excited voices erupted over the radio, the loudest of them all being Tomcat daring Coldstone to eat her exhaust fumes and him firing back at her. For the time being, Alexis was going to have to put Starscream and Coldstone's insubordination issues on the back burner. Banking sharply to the right, she throttled up to full afterburner and tore across the sky in pursuit of her wingmates. In the skies ahead, a familiar silver speck had already positioned himself to the fore of the returning jets. Alexis allowed herself a small, wistful smile, remembering the speed and agility of that powerful jet—a fighter pilot's dream. All too soon a voice tore her from her reverie.

"_Come on, Cap! You're falling behind!" _Scorch ribbed his commander.

"_Not for long, rookie!" _she countered. And the sky was rent with vapor trails as the five jets screamed across the desert sky.

* * *

Alexis knew something was awry when she saw Starscream's distant form suddenly change altitude and loop into the sky. They were roughly five minutes from the base and he had been thoroughly trouncing her squad as far as their race was concerned—not exactly out of sight, but far enough ahead to not leave room for any doubt as to who was winning. She watched as his silver form slid easily through the clouds back to position, just ahead of a cursing Tomcat. She opened her channel as the red, silver and blue Eagle slid into position off her wing.

"_What's up?"_

"_I've secured your frequency; I don't want the others to hear our conversation. It appears Autobots are awaiting our arrival."_

Alexis started. So soon?_ "How do you know? Where are they?" _Several questions were erupting from her at once.

"_These questions are irrelevant. We will know the answers soon enough." _His voice ended abruptly followed by a brief silence. Alexis felt like there was more he wanted to say. The silence felt weighted, heavy with thought. After several long seconds, she heard his raspy voice filter across her radio. "_You once asked if you could trust me." _She waited wheels turning even as he spoke the next words. "_But I ask you, Alexis O'Conner…Can I trust you?"_

She bit her lip. Ahead she could see the tower and the lights leading to the runway. Already Coldstone and Scorch were descending for a landing. What was there to consider? She had already thrown in her towel after her confrontation with Brandingson and her meeting with Keller. And it was plain to see that Starscream was having reservations meeting with the Autobots. She sighed.

"_Yes, Starscream. You can trust me. No matter what happens with this meeting, I'll back you up…and I have a feeling Tomcat will too,"_ she added for good measure, remembering her best friend's words from four days previous.

He didn't respond, but she heard the radio connection snap into silence. The silver jet lifted and banked softly to the right, away from the landing strip. She watched as his colors shimmered in the evening sunlight, their radiant brilliance slowly dulling into a muted grey. She was still a little perturbed at this afternoon's incident with Coldstone, but interstellar relations needed to take priority. He had been there for her, and for her squadron—now it was time to repay the favor.

* * *

Much to Tomcat's chagrin, her wheels were the last to set down that evening, thus earning her the unanimous pleasure of buying all her fellow pilots drinks at Tracy's Bar and Grill. But as Alexis climbed from her bird, Tomcat's lost bet was at the back of her mind. Starscream was nowhere to be seen, neither in the sky nor on the ground. Across the tarmac she spotted a figure rapidly approaching from the hangars. He was moving rapidly and within seconds was by her jet.

"Captain O'Conner, the colonel needs you immediately! I'm here to escort you to the meeting," the soldier said, motioning the way through the scurrying aircrews as they hustled to tend to their planes. Alexis nodded mutely and followed after the airman, her mind racing with questions, concerns, and worries. All the while her eyes scanned the skies for a familiar airframe.

Coldstone watched Alexis hurry off the tarmac. Something was up and he'd bet his bottom dollar that it had something to do with that damned Decepticon. That old, familiar anger began to build within him and he turned away from the sight, irritably slapping at a tech's helpful hand as he stepped off the ladder. A myriad of possibilities swam through his mind as the image of Alexis trotting off away from him replayed like a broken record. He remembered that barely four days ago, she had been clinging to him, grief-stricken and angry, angry at herself for what she believed was failure as a leader. How to make her see? How could he make her see that any type of future with Starscream, ally or otherwise, would only lead to more death and destruction? No one with that kind of history could just ignore their past. What did that walking scrapheap have that could possibly compare with him? He vaguely heard footsteps coming up from behind him.

"Hey, 'Stone? Hey Stoner! Whoo-hoo!"

A hand suddenly waved in front of his face. Coldstone turned to glare at such rude interference, but upon seeing who it was, softened his features immediately.

"Ah, sorry Scorch," he apologized, unable to resist a glance back over his shoulder to glimpse Alexis. Of course she had long disappeared from sight, but that couldn't stop his impulse. "I was just thinking a little too hard."

"You've been doing that a lot lately, bud," Scorch commented, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Thinking about her, I take it?"

Coldstone suppressed a grim smile. "You know me too well, Johnny."

"So just how deep are you two?" he queried, watching Stoner's green eyes tighten with emotion. Of course he knew, or rather, had a pretty good idea why Stoner was so preoccupied. His run-in with Thrust and Dirge weeks ago had been an eye-opening experience to say the least. And although he had not been present at the battle that had claimed half his friends and fellow squadmates, Johnathan Martin was now well-aware of their "guest" and his history, thanks in part to his friend Coldstone and the many briefings since. He knew perfectly well of Coldstone's hatred for Starscream. He himself had deep reservations of allowing the Con such free reign on the base. But on the same token, he knew that had it not been for Starscream he wouldn't be alive today.

A quiet, thoughtful individual, Scorch hadn't missed his best friend's ever-growing concern for their captain. What had started as deeply-rooted suspicion had slowly taken root and bloomed into a genuine concern for Alexis' well-being—feelings that were unprecedented for the arrogant lieutenant.

Coldstone felt something within his heart tighten painfully as he thought about Alexis. It seemed that things continued to get more and more complicated. Was it ever going to end? Could he ever make her realize that nothing but death and destruction followed that cursed machine? Realizing he had yet to answer Scorch's question he turned his saddened, green eyes to his best friend, "Deep enough, Johnny, deep enough," came the melancholy reply.

* * *

Alexis was quite surprised to discover that they were not going to enter the hangar where she surmised the meeting to be held; rather, they by-passed the large construct altogether and walked out upon a large, sandy flat that served as a recreational area of-sorts. Soldiers used the large football field-sized area for just about everything—from football and baseball to drill and ceremony practice. Today the large open area lent itself well for a meeting with the Autobots. To help make the meeting easier between the two races, it appeared as if one of the higher-ups had ordered a cherry-picker to be brought onto the field. An unorthodox if not creative idea, one would assume.

Two massive figures were surrounded by several humans, two of which Alexis easily recognized as Brandingson and Keller atop the cherry picker. Seeing other beings similar to Starscream gave the captain a little bit of a start. She was briefly and painfully aware of just how tiny her race was compared to them. But unlike Starscream, who radiated coldness and lethality, she could discern an air of affability around the two robots that were currently chatting away with her superiors. As she walked onto the field everyone glanced up and noted her appearance before resuming their conversation. Alexis was taken aback by the startling blue clarity of their optics, so very different from Starscream's fiery red ones. One of the two robots was definitely a ground vehicle. Alexis spied a tire mounted on each of the robot's shoulders. The make and model was hard to discern from this distance but the dazzling brilliance of the Autobot's armor promised a sharp-looking alt mode. The armor appeared to shimmer and change shades of pink—from light rose to vivid neon –depending on how the sunlight hit its surface. Alexis couldn't help but assume the 'bot was feminine. What self-respecting male robot would wear pink armor? Her build compared to her counterpart also gave credence to her assumption. The pink 'bot was of a slighter build, sleek and slender; its counterpart seemed more boxy and bulky. The other, much taller 'bot had deep OD-green armor with a matte finish. This Autobot was definitely a flyer; Alexis spied a pair of rotors mounted on the mech's back; however, this 'bot couldn't even dream of matching Starscream in the speed department. The tell-tale engine mounts, rotors, and distinctive cockpit told Alexis this robot had chosen a CV-22 Osprey as his alt mode.

"Captain O'Conner, nice of you to join our little get-together," she heard Keller announce affably. The platform lowered slowly as she walked closer, a clear sign that Keller wanted her to join them topside. The sergeant that had escorted her politely withdrew, allowing Alexis to step onto the platform. Once again the cherry-picker raised into the air allowing her a much better close-up of their intergalactic guests. Both smiled politely as the platform came to a halt, optic-level on the one, chest-level with the other.

"Autobots Springer and Arcee, I would like for you to meet Captain Alexis "Spades" O'Conner, the liaison for our current…guest, if you will," Alexis heard Brandingson say. "Captain please meet Springer and Arcee, the Autobot envoys for our planet."

She smiled hesitantly, "It's an honor to meet you."

"Likewise," the pink-shaded 'bot replied, a feminine ring to its voice, confirming Alexis' suspicions.

"The colonel has informed us of your skirmish with the Decepticon Thrust," the green one, Springer, said, "You and your friends are very fortunate to be alive."

Their optics, though blue, radiated a warmth and friendliness that had Alexis feeling as if she were conversing with old friends instead of alien machines. But a deep-rooted wariness kept her from speaking too much, too soon. "Yes, we are," she agreed cautiously. _Where the hell are you, Starscream? _

"Secretary Keller and Colonel Brandingson have also told us that you are in a unique situation," Arcee went on, "They tell us you are the intermediary for a Decepticon who claims to have defected. Is this true?"

Alexis allowed a small grin. "You might say that. Although he has no reservations speaking his mind when he wants to." _If and when he ever shows up! _

The two Autobots looked at each, as if exchanging glances, but it lasted just a little longer than necessary. Alexis had a hunch they were internally communicating. The green Autobot turned to her once more. "The colonel here has insisted that _you_ tell us who this Decepticon is, as well as his intentions here—seeing as how you have somehow managed to establish such an unusual relationship with this mech," Springer added, a deeply interested glint in his shining optics. Any human that had somehow managed to establish a friendship with a Decepticon would have an interesting story to tell.

_That's putting it mildly,_ Alexis thought to herself. But she need not to reply, for suddenly a loud crack of thunder ripped across the sky—it's source a lone, matte grey F-15 Eagle streaking across the horizon. Everyone turned to stare at the sky as the roar of jet engines screamed to the heavens. Brandingson turned purple with rage. No jets were to be flying at this hour! He whirled and began to holler down to his aide, "Get me a radio! I want that sonavabitch's wings on my desk in five minutes!"

But Alexis knew exactly who the loan jet was. She grabbed the colonel's sleeve, "Sir," she said, giving him a knowing look. "I don't think those particular wings will fit in your office and that's assuming you get close enough to snip them." Instantly, the colonel understood, although his features were still flushed from anger. Of course it would be _that_ particular sonavabitch; he should have known.

"Never mind!" he barked gruffly. Both humans turned back to the amused-looking Autobots. "Our apologies," Brandingson sniffed.

"A rambunctious youngster, colonel?" Springer queried; he clearly found the incident somewhat entertaining. But seeing the seriousness on all three of the human's faces quickly drained his amusement. "That wasn't a human, was it?" His optics became subdued and one hand began to lower to his waistline. Alexis spied the grip of a rather large-looking weapon.

"No, it wasn't," Keller confirmed softly.

"Springer, that was an F-15 and if there was no human flying it…" Arcee trailed off. The affable atmosphere had vanished as abruptly as sunshine in the face of a thunderstorm. In fact, it felt exactly like that, the uneasy calm before the storm. By now both Autobots were hunched, optics scanning the sky, hands hovering above their weapons. Only three Decepticons had ever taken the alt mode of an F-15 Eagle and they were supposed to be off-line.

Suddenly an evil cackle lanced the silence, a laugh so chilling it made the hair on Alexis' neck stand on end. She remembered that laugh all too well.

The Autobots were clearly unnerved by this point, weapons drawn and optics looking wildly about. "Colonel, if this is some kind of trick, I would request you end it now," Springer warned, optics searching for the disembodied voice.

Another peel of laughter. "Foolish Autobots, always making assumptions of that which they have no clue!"

"Primus Springer, that voice sounds exactly like—"

Suddenly the air behind the cherry-picker shimmered and darkened before revealing a familiar and dreaded silhouette. Two glowing coals appeared above and behind the humans, followed by two silvery wingtips, and the crimson tops of two air intakes. The rest of the figure slowly materialized, arms across the golden canopy in an arrogant display of triumph. The Autobots wouldn't dare to shoot him from this position.

"Dear Primus above!" Springer softly exhaled, "It can't be!"

"Oh, but it is, Autobot. It is," Starscream sneered haughtily. "Surprised to see me?"

By now Arcee had her weapon drawn, focused unyieldingly on the Seeker's chassis. "You! You can't be alive! Galvatron killed you!"

"Easy Arcee, lower your weapon. We can't shoot from here and he knows it," Springer soothed. He looked at Starscream. "You best be explaining yourself, Decepticon. Starting with how in Primus' name you're alive."

Starscream merely smirked, an all-knowing look glazing his features. "I suppose Primus had other plans for me," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Don't blaspheme, Starscream. It doesn't become you," Arcee hissed vehemently, optics colder than ice.

Starscream's optics narrowed, but he wisely chose to ignore the femme's barbed comment. There was nothing to gain in exchanging insults with either of them.

"Galvatron did indeed destroy my body, but my spark became an entirely different matter," he began. His optics were still narrow with hatred and he spoke with a condescending sneer in his voice. "I wandered throughout the galaxy, neither alive nor dead—a bodiless ball of energy, until I managed to cross into Earth's orbit. I found solitude within this human's machine," he motioned towards Alexis, "Its build was familiar to me and after much experimentation, I realized that I could influence and build upon its electronical systems."

"That's not possible," Arcee stated, her ion pistol still leveled. "You're body was disintegrated. No mech's spark could have survived such a blast."

"And yet here I am."

Springer placed a gentle hand on Arcee's barrel and pushed for her to lower it. Thus far, Starscream's story seemed hardly believable, but how else had he been able to just materialize out of thin air minutes ago if he was not, what humans termed, a ghost? Only Skywarp had an ability similar, but Springer's brief background in weapon systems analysis told him that teleportation had to compensate for displaced air particles. Bright light and a sharp _crack _often accompanied one of Skywarp's jumps; neither had occurred in Starscream's case. And to the best of his knowledge, Mirage's cloaking generator technology had never fallen into Decepticon hands. And even if it had, both of those mechs had a gift from Primus that neither side had ever been able to replicate. There was something else in play here. Springer sensed it, especially since everyone was still functional. If Starscream had any desire whatsoever to kill them or the humans, he would have attacked outright instead of making such a grandiose appearance. If there was one thing Springer did remember about the Air Commander, he had always favored surprise attacks over pointless drabble. This conversation was leading somewhere.

"Yes, Autobot, I am ghost," Starscream spat the word with venom. His optics were heated with anger and although Alexis could tell the Autobots felt as if it was directed at them, she knew differently. Starscream harbored a deep love/hate relationship with his ghostly skills. Such talents had proven extremely useful, but on the other hand, they isolated him from what he _truly_ desired—the ability to interact fully with the world around him. Such was the price of immortality. True he now had a body, a means if you will, to interact with all things around him, but there still was that sense of detachment. And if he wasn't careful, the Seeker would catch himself phasing in and out of visibility. Maintaining a tangible form took concentrated effort, similar to a person trying to perfect correct posture. Eventually it becomes habit and one barely notices the effort, but every now and then, habit slips and bad posture will be evident. In Starscream's case a slip-up resulted in ever-frustrating intangibility.

"I am neither alive nor am I off-line," he smirked then, "I am unique."

"I still don't believe it," Arcee spat.

"Arcee," Springer began but was quickly interrupted.

"No, Springer! It's a trick. It's gotta be," she said vehemently.

Starscream's smirked widened, "Then allow me to show you that this is not a trick at all." He began to slowly move out from behind the cherry picker, his movements very slow and deliberate. Arcee's ion blaster slowly followed him, her optics despite all the anger, held a tiny glint of fear. Tension hung tight and thick in the air, like a suffocating blanket over one's head. The humans held themselves rigid, literally caught in the middle of an impasse. Alexis's hands tightened on the guardrail of the platform, her knuckles turning white from strain. This wasn't exactly how she hoped the meeting would go and it looked like they were just beginning to hit the downhill slope.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Starscream stalked towards the pink femme, his smirk never changing. One step after another, he walked out from behind the picker to slowly come and stand before the disbelieving Autobot. Boldly he walked right up to the end of the quaking barrel. Arcee's optics widened at his audacity. The Starscream she knew would _never_ have done this!

"I swear to Primus, I will shoot you," she threatened, optics quivering as much as her barrel. She felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder mount.

"Arcee, don't do anything foolish," Springer cautioned, his optics also latched onto the Seeker who stood just feet from them.

"Go on Autobot. Shoot me," the Decepticon challenged icily. "This is, after all, what you have always desired, is it not? To kill the one who slaughtered your friends? Let's see..." he drawled slowly, a blue hand stroking the underside of his chin, "There was that one 'Bot, the red transport van…Ah, yes! Ironhide. He died rather quickly unfortunately. Much too quick for my taste…and then there was…"

"Stop! _Stop_! STOP! You sparkless son of a Quintesson!" Before anyone could react, Arcee jammed the barrel of her gun into Starscream's chassis and made to pull the trigger. For Alexis everything slowed to a painful crawl within time. She heard herself scream, saw the Autobot's finger tighten on the trigger, and vaguely remembered seeing Springer trying to grab the barrel, but the most vivid image of all, was Starscream still standing, still smirking and an evil, mocking glint shimmering in his optics. As Alexis stared on, horrorstruck, she watched as Starscream abruptly knock the barrel sideways, skewing the shot. In the same swift motion he wrenched the rifle from her grip and then phased straight _through_ the female Autobot to stand directly behind her, roughly shoving Springer away in the process. With the practiced ease of many hand-to-hand sessions, one silvery arm wrapped tightly around her neck struts, the other held the purloined rifle, barrel pointed unwaveringly at the green Osprey and it all happened within the span of three seconds.

It was then Alexis realized a great weight upon her back. She heard Col. Brandingson grunt roughly, the sound inches from her ear. She never even realized he had knocked her to the floor of the platform during the melee. A quick dart of her eyes confirmed that Keller had hit the deck too. In a period of time that felt like hours instead of seconds, the only sound heard was Arcee's cooling fans cycling wildly from stress.

Starscream's raspy voice, normally loud and course, whispered softly across the expanse, "Now that I have everyone's complete and undivided attention, let's see if we can carry on this discussion in a more _civilized _manner. Honestly Autobots, if this is how you treat all parleys it is no wonder we've been fighting for millennia," he snapped. He tightened his grip around Arcee's neck marginally. "Now do you believe me, my dear?" he hissed softly in her audios.

Arcee froze within his grip. She was struggling to maintain her composure, trying to comprehend what had just happened. What _had _happened? She knew that she should have been off-line by now, and yet she was still functioning. _I was foolish. I shouldn't have let him get to me like that. He moved so quickly! And he…he…he went straight through me!_ She shuddered remembering the chilling cold that had briefly paralyzed her systems. _It happened so quickly._ Still stunned, Arcee nodded her head vaguely. The iron grip around her neck loosened and she felt herself propelled forward. Strong arms caught her easily and she heard Springer asking if she was all right.

"I'm fine," she mumbled softly, turning her head to stare at her attacker. Starscream scowled and tossed her rifle towards them. Springer caught it neatly with his free hand, a puzzled look on his features. Starscream's optics never left the Autobots as he slowly stepped towards the cherry picker. Of the three Cybertronians, he was the tallest with the cherry picker coming up roughly one quarter of the way up his cockpit. He held his hand palm-side up and looked pointedly at Alexis; it was a crystal clear message. Alexis spared Brandingson a quick look before climbing over the railing and dropping down into the large, blue palm. Starscream's fingers curled slightly upward, cupping the pilot within. He then looked around stoically, noticing just how still and tense the base was. He leveled his glare on Brandingson.

"Let us take this meeting to a more private venue, colonel," the Seeker suggested, already moving out towards Maintenance Hangar Delta. Keller and Brandingson exchanged glances and then looked to the still-stunned Autobots. Springer came-to first, slowly releasing Arcee to walk up to the humans. His bright blue optics still held a measure of bewilderment. He looked after the retreating wingspan of the former Air Commander and slowly exhaled a gust of air from his vents. He looked to the humans.

"Well, that went better than I expected," he remarked offering the two humans a friendly lift. As Brandingson steadied himself for the short jaunt, he heard Keller say, "I wonder if Starscream would be interested in becoming our new foreign diplomat?" Despite himself, Brandingson laughed.


	17. Caught in a Crosswind

**A/N: Another chapter for you peeps! Enjoy and please R&R! It helps keep me motivated!**

**Chapter 17: Caught in a Crosswind**

Starscream ducked inside the somewhat cramped interior of Maintenance Hanger Delta, being mindful not to clip his wings on the door frame. He felt Alexis shift uneasily within his palm, no doubt the height and movement disturbing to her. He rather enjoyed her present discomfort, feeling her weight shifting nervously from side to side, the brush of her soft flesh as she struggled to maintain her balance, the firm touch of her hands grasping at the seams of his digits. He reveled in it all, secretly savoring the proximity of her to him. So much _life _within that tiny body! _Maybe I should demand this more often_, he mused silently.

What few humans that were rummaging in the hangar when he entered quickly scattered like mice at the Decepticon's sudden appearance. They needed no encouragement in making a hasty exit. It seemed privacy, rather the lack thereof, would not be an issue here. Reluctantly, he lowered his hand to ground level, allowing Alexis to gingerly step onto firm ground.

"Thanks," she replied hoarsely, grateful for the ride but also thankful to be back on terra firma. She heard Starscream give a noncommittal grunt. She turned and watched him kneel down, noting his obvious discomfort. "So why the change in locale?" she asked curiously, glancing around the confines of the familiar building.

"I don't enjoy the idea of everyone on this base listening in on delicate matters. I sense that your human superiors chose such a location to discourage me from rash action," he smirked, "although the success of their decision may be subject to debate." He motioned for Alexis to step back and she complied willingly. In a smooth, fluid motion Starscream began to transform down into his alt mode. The transformation process never ceased to amaze the young pilot. How solid metal panels could flow like mercury across each other's surface to reconfigure into a recognizable earth-made machine…it stunned her each time she witnessed a transformation.

A small puff of dust drifted across the floor as his front landing gear bounced onto the hard, concrete surface and settled into place. Seconds later, the air in front of her shimmered and his human image appeared once more. Alexis felt the muscles in her stomach clench upon seeing him again. He was so deceptively handsome. _Stop it, Alexis! Get a grip on yourself._

But try as she might, she just couldn't pull her eyes from Starscream's exquisite physique. He was like a beautiful flame and she was the moth; inexplicably drawn, destined to perish should she dance too close. But, oh, the pull! As if sensing the turmoil boiling within her, he stepped closer and lightly touched her forearms. She looked up into his eyes, fathoming their mysterious depth. This couldn't keep going this way. She had to do something.

"You know, what you pulled today with Coldstone was absolutely uncalled for," she said, half-joking. "If you were even remotely human, I'd have you reprimanded." Her tone was absolutely dead serious, but her green eyes twinkled with a hint of humor.

Starscream chuckled darkly. The slight admonishment went in one audio and out the other. At the moment he had other things on his processor—dangerous, seductive things. His hold on her arms tightened ever so much, and he pressed closer to her, lowering his head until both their foreheads touched.

"Ah, my dear Alexis," he purred softly, "You say 'if I am even remotely human' but yet you seem to be blatantly oblivious of what is standing directly before you. Does this not qualify?" he continued, softly trailing his lips from her temple, down her cheekbone and back to her ear as he spoke. He felt her shiver ever so slightly and he grinned.

"Maybe," she whispered her reply.

"Then why don't you reprimand me?" he teased. Alexis felt his lips barely brushing the edge of her ear and it set her innards on fire. "Punish me. Discipline me. I dare you." His lips had traveled back across her cheek as he spoke, hovering tauntingly close to her own lips. Alexis held her breath, caught between falling into his trap and just turning and running away. Although his grip was light she almost wished that he had been holding her like a vice. This delicate touch was so contrary to his personality! Part of her was begging for more, begging to be closer, while another was screaming _Danger! Danger! You should not be doing this!_ His challenge hung in the air, like a tangible mist between them. Fortunately for Alexis, the decision to stay or flee was made for her.

Reverberating footsteps could be heard approaching the hangar. With a sly smile Starscream disengaged the captain and stepped back, waiting for the Autobots to enter. His entire demeanor shifted into a detached, business-like persona. Seconds later Springer and Arcee appeared in the huge doorframe, the former lowering his hands to allow the colonel and SecDef to step onto the concrete floor. Both men walked the few paces to stand in front of the Decepticon and the pilot. Springer and Arcee exchanged looks before following Starscream's example and transforming themselves. The hangar was a snug fit after all. Seconds later, two more "humans" joined the conversation.

Like Starscream, Springer's holoform was clothed in an OD green flight suit, the Autobot insignia a prominent patch opposite his nameplate. His hair was a dark blonde crew cut and his blue eyes still held just a hint of humor. He wasn't quite as tall as Starscream, but he did appear to be a bit more muscular in build. As for Arcee, her appearance was much more casual. Khaki slacks, low-heeled pumps and a deep magenta-colored blouse clothed her petite form. Her strawberry-blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. But for all her casualness, her eyes shone with a no-nonsense glint.

"All right, Starscream," she began, "You've got your privacy, so I suggest you start talking."

"Never one to mince words, were you, Arcee?" the Seeker responded. Her icy demeanor didn't melt an iota. He chuckled. "Very well." And so Starscream proceeded to tell the Autobots of the humans' run-in with Thrust and Dirge and the subsequent dogfight that had taken place not even a week previous. He also went on to tell them of his suspicions of why they were here planet-side in the first place. Galvatron's return was imminent, he emphasized, and if the humans or the Autobots wanted to see Earth through the coming battle, then they had better heed his warning.

"So what's in it for you?" Arcee asked, knowing there had to be a catch. For the briefest moment, Springer saw Starscream's eyes dart towards the only female human in the meeting. After witnessing the Air Commander's strange behavior earlier (he offered her a hand up for Primus' sake!) he was willing to bet an entire decacycle of high grade that Capt. Alexis O'Conner played more of a role in this thing than any of them. But what that role was, he had yet to figure out.

"I want Galvatron destroyed once and for all. He's the one responsible for my death and my subsequent entrapment in this pitiless existence. I want him to experience the same pain, the same _agony_ I felt as my body disintegrated around my spark."

"And so you need us to help why?" Arcee said, somewhat cynically.

"Does the endangerment of your precious humans mean anything to you?" he snapped in reply. "I am only one against hundreds and even my powers are limited." He didn't mention that the longer he maintained his holoform, the weaker he was growing. Mounting a full-scale assault against Galvatron's forces by himself would be suicide. Well, suicide if he could actually die again. In any event it wasn't something he wanted to see if it was possible.

"The fact of the matter is, if Starscream is correct, we're gonna need as much firepower as we can muster," Col. Brandingson spoke up.

"And rallying the rest of world in a call to arms will be hard enough in and of itself," Keller added. "Most of these other countries believe if they don't raise dust, then they'll be left alone. It's worked for them before when the Decepticons were here and they'll believe it'll work again."

"I believe I understand what you're implying Mr. Secretary," Springer said. "To put it bluntly, as world envoys, you would like us to help you make this case to the rest of the countries of the world in order to emphasize the magnitude of this potential problem."

"Essentially, yes. Having you guys there will give this situation a sense of urgency and, not to cause offense, Starscream, but authenticity as well." Keller confirmed. He turned to Brandingson. "Can we get copies of the aerial footage taken during the first and second attacks?"

"I believe I can supply you with the necessary data," Starscream interjected casually, the slight seeming to have made no impact on his demeanor.

"Good, that will be most helpful if we're gonna make this thing work," Keller nodded in satisfaction.

"So what are you going to bring to the table, Starscream? Besides surveillance tapes and a vendetta; what's your _grand strategy _to help if all this goes through?" Arcee asked. She was still very skeptical and had every right to be. She was interested in seeing these surveillance tapes of Dirge and Thrust attacking American aircraft. She also wanted to see if he somehow doctored the footage in any way. Having the Decepticons supposedly mounting a huge offensive after years of dormancy seemed pretty far-fetched, especially when the only warning was coming from Starscream himself.

The Air Commander merely grinned, turning and focusing his icy stare on Brandingson. "Colonel, as Air Commander and the Second of the entire Decepticon Army I can provide a wealth of information on strategies, tactics, and even potential targets. However, I feel that even this will not be enough to give us a solid edge."

"So what are you implying?" Brandingson asked curiously. Even Keller was leaning forward slightly so as not to miss what was coming next.

"I want full and complete control of _all _your aerial forces."

Silence. It hung in the hangar for several long seconds. Looking at the Autobots, Alexis thought they had short-circuited. Both of their mouths hung agape in shock, eyes wide with disbelief at the audacity of the Seeker's request. Even she felt a little shell-shocked.

"Excuse me? Did you just say 'full and complete control' of all our aerial forces?" the colonel reiterated. Seriously, did he hear that correctly? Starscream merely raised his chin, his arms defiantly across his chest.

"Are you insane!" Arcee demanded. "You, especially _you_ of all mechs, have no right commandeering a fighting force!"

"Correct me if I'm wrong Autobot," the Seeker spat hatefully, "but it is not you who makes that determination, now is it?" Arcee clamped her mouth shut and looked at the colonel, her feelings evident in her gaze.

"I'm not so sure I like the idea either," Springer spoke up, stroking his chin in thought.

"Nobody asked you." Springer and Starscream exchanged hardened glares before turning and looking to the colonel, who had yet to say anything.

"Explain your reasoning, Commander, if you will," the colonel asked, trying his best not to piss off the Decepticon anymore than he was while also placating to his more cautious side. He was very much interested in hearing what this "enemy" had to say in order to offer up such an audacious plan.

"I've flown with your squadron, human, and I must say I am less than impressed," Starscream began, casting a mischievous eye towards Alexis. He saw her jaw tighten and those green orbs harden in silent anger. "If these humans represent the best of your Air Force then you will lose more than three-quarters of your forces within the first battle. Your tactics are sloppy and your techniques, archaic." He watched the humans tense as his comments hit home. He very well knew that their country, the United States, viewed itself as the leader in air superiority and firepower. That viewpoint may have been true on _Earth,_ but it was far from fact in the _galactic_ scheme of things. Still there was hope; albeit a glimmer, but it was there nonetheless. Alexis' squadron had shown an uncanny ability to adapt and improvise. They had also shown rigorous discipline in the face of a greater foe, all except for Jerry Stoner. In Starscream's opinion, he was the wildcard and he would have to be dealt with. But nevertheless, the squadron did represent the United States Air Force well. Even before he off-lined, he recalled well the innumerous pilots he and his trine had fought against, particularly the "Fighting Hawkeyes" of the 607th.

He continued, "Granted your equipment is horribly inferior, but I feel that with a little…ingenuity and forward thought, what you lack in technology you can compensate with superior strategy."

"And you have such a strategy?" Springer asked, cocking an eyebrow.

The Decepticon stepped forward, eye to eye with the Autobot envoy. "Let me refresh your memory core, Autodolt, as you seem to have forgotten with whom you are dealing with. I graduated from the Cybertron Science Academy of Crystal City with the highest of honors. Before the war broke out, I was the head of the city-state of Vos, the City of the Seekers and I did not become Megatron's Second in Command by sitting on my aft or backstabbing my comrades as so many would have you believe. In the beginning we were a formidable military force; that you cannot deny. After all, it was I who denied you air superiority on our home planet for _four million years_."

"Damn, that's quite an impasse," Brandingson commented under his breath.

"Quite," Starscream reiterated, arms crossed defiantly against his chest.

The colonel looked to Secretary Keller. "What do you think?"

Keller immediately understood the implicit question. _Should we really trust him this far?_ It was a tough call, even for a seasoned veteran such as himself. And this was all based on the theoretical issue of _if_ there was going to be a Decepticon attack. Alerting the Autobots was one thing; they had the capability to verify such a report, but amassing an air force and having _Starscream_ train and lead them was quite another. But if they were wrong and the Decepticons were going to attack soon…Starscream was right in that respect—the casualties would be catastrophic. But if they agreed with Starscream wholly, it would anger the Autobots and risk their alliance. Again, not a good scenario for any upcoming battle. There had to be a happy medium.

"All right, this is what I propose we do," he looked to the Autobots. "Springer, Arcee. Can you confirm if the Decepticons are massing for an attack? We need confirmation first, and then approximations of where they're at, how many, and if possible where they plan to attack first."

"We can notify Communications and see what intel we can dig up," Arcee responded. "We'll also review your footage," she added icily, glaring at the Seeker.

"Good," he turned to the Decepticon, "Starscream, I cannot in good faith, just hand over our entire fighting fleet based on what we have discussed thus far." Keller watched for Starscream's reaction, but surprisingly there was none. He continued onward, "However, I also know we cannot take your warning lightly, so this is what I propose in the meantime while we wait for confirmation from the Autobots: You will be given command of one squadron to train in the event of an upcoming attack," Keller looked pointedly at Brandingson, "and I highly recommend that it be the 42nd. Colonel, I will personally write up the orders to give you a full complement of airmen to comprise this new flight. Equipment, gear, fuel, men, planes—you name it and I'll see that you get it, within reason. This will be under-wraps, ladies and gentlemen, our little secret. When we get the necessary info from the Autobots, I will ensure the necessary preparations will be made."

"Does this mean my amnesty has been accepted?" Starscream asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Consider this your trial run." The SecDef twisted around as if to exit.

"One squadron will not be enough should Galvatron choose to attack forthwith!"

Keller slowly turned and looked at the Decepticon with steely eyes. "In that event, we had better hope that it is."

* * *

Coldstone watched curiously as the two Autobots exited the hangar with the SecDef and Colonel Brandingson. He had seen them earlier on his way back to his quarters. He had also spied Alexis making her way towards them, escorted by a small entourage of MPs. Very curious indeed. It was then he made the decision to hang in the area and try to determine just what was going on. As long as he stayed far enough away not to attract the attention of the MPs standing nonchalantly around the gathering, he was pretty safe to remain and spy at will. And it wasn't like he was the only one either; the arrival of the Autobots had attracted a lot of curious eyes.

It wasn't until Starscream literally appeared from nowhere that the pilot grew immediately suspicious. Anytime that flying toaster showed up it meant trouble for everyone. He felt a surge of hope. Maybe the Autobots were here to apprehend him! But as he watched on, it became evident that was not the case. He watched in amazement as the Seeker took the magenta-shaded Autobot hostage and used her own weapon to hold her partner at bay. He involuntarily took a few steps forward, his immediate concern being Alexis. _She was right in the firing line!_ He watched in horror as she was knocked to the floor of the platform by Brandingson. But as quickly as the situation developed it disappeared. Starscream shoved his hostage away, tossed the rifle to her partner and boldly walked up to the platform where Alexis now stood. He stared as she climbed upon his hand and they all began to walk towards the maintenance hangars. _What in the hell is she doing? Now what's going on?_

Curiously, he watched as they entered the hangar. Apparently they were going to finish this thing behind closed doors. Very well, he could wait. It wasn't as if he had anything pressing to do anyway.

* * *

Alexis watched as the Autobots and her superiors exited the hangar, hammering out the final details of their plan. She was glad it was finally over. Now only she and Starscream remained in the empty hangar. She glanced out the still-open door at their retreating backs and then turned back to Starscream.

"Well, I guess I should be leaving too."

"Wait." She heard him say as he gently took her arm when she turned. Alexis glanced back at him, eyes widening at the change she saw. He looked…tired, actually, physically tired. His normally icy blue eyes seemed glazed; they no longer held their commanding sheen.

"Are…are you all right?" She asked gently, genuine concern lacing her voice. She had never seen him like this and it surprisingly worried her.

"I will be fine in due time," he replied. Suddenly, his holoform fizzled like a badly tuned television. She felt his grip fade and then return. "I have taxed my energy reserves to their limit. I must rest and regain my strength now."

"Do you need me to do anything, get you anything?" she asked, still really concerned.

He was silent for a long while, his form fading and reappearing more frequently. Alexis was afraid he wasn't going to answer before he faded to nothing. Finally when he did speak his request shocked her to her core. "There is one thing..." And he bent down and gently took her mouth with his. Her eyes widened in shock, but the surprise quickly faded to intense pleasure. The fire within her flared to life as she automatically kissed him back, her hands eagerly running through his short-cropped hair. Gone were the doubts that had plagued her earlier. Gone were the inhibitions and the worry of what could happen and gone were all thoughts of the consequences of her actions. Everything melted away until Alexis was only aware of the being before her, pulling her tightly to his body, arms wrapping possessively about her waist.

Starscream growled softly in response to Alexis' returning kiss. Emboldened by her response, her tightened his hold and pressed her closer, relishing the softness of her body, the faint whiff of skin kissed by honeysuckle and the soft caresses from her tendrils of hair. This! This is what it felt to be alive! And now that he had it, he didn't want to give it up. It stirred him deeply to feel Alexis returning his affections; awoke things that had slumbered so deeply, he hardly remembered what these feelings were.

Much too soon for his liking, Alexis broke from their kiss gasping for breath. Her emerald eyes were wide with wonder, as if she could hardly believe what had taken place. "I…I don't—"

"Hush," he replied, his image once again fazing. "I only wanted to finish what we started earlier; I hate leaving things half done," he smirked. Alexis blushed in response.

"I really—" but whatever words she was going to say next were lost. A loud clang reverberated through the hangar. Alexis whirled around to see Coldstone standing in the gaping maw of the hangar doorway. A tool of some sort lay at his feet where he had dropped it.

"Jerry," Alexis whispered, her face horror-stricken. _How much did he see? How long has he been there?_ Obviously he had seen enough. Without a word Stoner spun on his heel and marched out of the hangar.

Alexis turned to see if Starscream was still present, but he was gone. Wasting no time, she quickly ran after her fellow pilot, not at all looking forward to trying to explain herself. _You really fucked up this time, Alexis, _her inner voice chided harshly. She felt horribly guilty that he had seen her. All of her doubts rushed her mind in an overwhelming wave of conviction. _I shouldn't have stayed; I should have left. I should have ignored him and just walked out. Oh, God what have I done?_

"Coldstone, wait!" Of course she didn't expect him to acknowledge her. He kept on walking, shoulders squared and his stride long and powerful.

"Jerry, please!" she tried again, catching up with him and grabbing his elbow. "Please, let me—"

"Please what, let you explain!" he said, voice trembling with barely contained rage. He violently yanked his arm away and glared at her hatefully. "Save your breath. I know what I saw and it hardly warrants explaining. Actions speak louder than words, _captain._" He gave Alexis another scathing glare before continuing on his way, back towards the barracks.

This time Alexis did not pursue him. An uncomfortable feeling was building within her stomach and an overwhelming burden of guilt was compressing her heart as if it were a vice. For the first time she could recall, she felt torn—torn between her developing feelings for Starscream and the budding respect, admiration, and attraction with Coldstone. Jerry was actually human, a living, breathing human being with a heart and soul. They could grow old together, have children, retire from service lead normal lives…_what am I thinking! He hates me now. Whatever chance we had together, I blew it just now and all because I couldn't restrain myself._

And Starscream? She honestly couldn't say why she had such a strong emotional connection with him or where or when it started to develop. He wasn't even remotely human. He didn't eat, rarely seemed to sleep and hated her species with a fervent passion. But when they were together? She couldn't deny that he had changed these last several weeks. He had grown more tolerable, patient even. She knew the Starscream he had been during Stoner's father's era was not the Starscream he was now, at least with her. He had grown increasingly protective over her, gentle even, a far cry from the intimidating, fear-inducing form he had been during the beginning. The way he touched her, held her, kissed her—it all spoke of a deeper connection, a deeper respect. _But he's not even human_, her devil's advocate would whisper. _He's a betrayer, and a liar; history has shown that again and again. What are you doing dancing with the devil?_ But Alexis had no rational answer.

Regardless of her feelings, Alexis knew she had crossed a line today, one that she knew she couldn't go back and recant.


	18. Deep Thought

**A/N: Wow! She does live and she does update! Long delay, I know, but I make no excuses. The initiative to write has been sitting on the back burner lately. As some of you may know, I recently enlisted. Didn't make pilot outright, but I hope to try again in a few years when I have more experience under my belt. Until them I'm satisfied to crank wrenches on one of the greatest helos ever built—the UH-60 Blackhawk. Getting in shape and spending time with the family before boot camp are a little higher on my priority list right now. But I'm not totally cruel; here's a juicy little chapter to keep your mouths watering!**

**Chapter 18: Deep Thought**

The very next day Colonel Brandingson held a briefing with the remaining members of the 42nd Fighter Squadron. Not one week ago this room would have been full of eager, young faces. Now it seemed larger than necessary and only emphasized the loss the members of the 42nd had endured. DOTAL, Scorch, EVAC, Tomcat and Spades all sat along the front row, quietly listening to their Wing Commander highlight the details of their coming change in training routine. Coldstone had been the last member through the door and had opted to remain in the back, several rows removed from his squadmates.

Alexis silently watched her fellow pilots for any type of reaction as Brandingson revealed they were going to be the lab rats, in effect, for a new elite squadron of fighter pilots. And it wasn't lost on her either that Starscream was not present. Either he was still recuperating or he had wisely opted not to show himself until absolutely necessary. Whatever his reasoning she was glad. There didn't need to be anymore tension in this room than there already was. The strain of having lost so many friends, so quickly coupled with this announcement could very well push everyone to their breaking point. As Brandingson droned on about details she was already familiar with, Alexis allowed her mind to wander to the events just a few hours previous.

Last night after Coldstone had caught her kissing Starscream, Alexis had quickly returned to her quarters. Clarissa had been there, watching her favorite sitcom on the local cable, but when her best friend had burst through the door in all but tears, she had quickly flicked the TV off and followed her into the tiny bedroom. Alexis had then proceeded to tell her everything—her feelings for Coldstone, her feelings for Starscream, the kiss, and being caught. She just couldn't bear to handle these emotions by herself anymore. They poured out of her in a flood, red-raw and painful.

_Flashback…_

"_I just don't know what to do anymore, Clare! I know I shouldn't have fallen for either one of them! I'm Coldstone's superior officer for Pete's sake! There's regs against that sort of thing and as for Starscream…he's not even human! Oh my God, what the hell is wrong with me!"_

"_Spades, Spades," Clarissa shook her gently, with no response. "SPADES!" She shook her harder, this time garnering a watery-eyed stare. "Get a grip on yourself, OK? Crying may make you feel better, but it does not solve anything."_

_Slowly, ever so slowly the sobs subsided and the tears began to dry. Alexis felt the comforting hands of her best friend gently rub her back as she regained her composure. _

"_Now let's start over, Lexi," Clarissa said. "Tell me what's going on." And so Alexis did, going back so far as to highlight Starscream's intimidation of her and then the slow, pain-staking process of building repute with each other. Somewhere along the line, fear and dread had become trust and security. Sharp distinctions had slowly grayed and blurred into barely-discernable lines of right and wrong. He wasn't even human and yet Starscream was susceptible to the very same things that humans were—greed, hate, loathing, retribution, fear…love. These have always been considered 'human' emotions. To share in them, did it or did it not make one human as well?_

_Clarissa listened intently, only interrupting occasionally to ask Alexis to clarify one point or another. She had known something was going on between Alexis and Coldstone and more recently their alien resident. But she had no idea it ran this deep. _

"_What's wrong with me, Clare? I'm falling for one of the most despicable, most evil beings that has ever set foot on Earth! How could I even like him? Why do I like him?"_

_Clarissa sighed and looked away, not quite sure how to answer her friend's questions. "Those are questions I can't answer for you, Lexi," she began gently, "but I have a feeling you already know the answer." Alexis looked up puzzled._

_Her friend gave an impish grin and punched her playfully, "He does have one hot holographic body!"_

_Alexis returned the punch and laughed despite herself. "You are so impossible!"_

"_But seriously, Lexi, I do think you already know why, you're just reluctant to accept the truth."_

"_And Coldstone?"_

"_Hey, he's a pompous, arrogant, self-serving, chauvinistic ass-hole—also with a hot body. Face it honey, you're a jerk magnet."_

_Once again Alexis stifled a laugh, "Oh how true that is."_

"_You know, Lexi, I can't tell you what you should or should not do; only you can decide that. But I can be here to watch your back and listen to what you have to say. I don't know Coldstone like you do," she gave a little snort, "I'm not sure I want to to be honest with ya, and the only things I know about Starscream are through hearsay—all of it bad. But you haven't made it this far in life making bad decisions. Remember that."_

"_There's a first time for everything, 'Cat."_

"_Then I'll be there to help you through that too." The girls shared a giggle._

"_It could be dangerous," Alexis sing-songed. Clarissa nudged her playfully._

"_We're fighter pilots, remember? We live for danger!"_

"And just when will we meet our new Instructor, Colonel?"

Alexis jolted from her reverie. She gave herself a little shake to try and clear her head.

"Monday, EVAC. I want you guys and gals to report to Hangar 1-Alpha at 0600 sharp. And don't be late," Brandingson warned with an edge.

"Somebody we already know, sir?" DOTAL quipped. Brandingson grinned wryly.

"You might say that, Lieutenant. And here's some words of wisdom: Don't piss him off. We can't afford to lose anymore pilots and we definitely can't afford to keep replacing floors in our hangars." The silence that fell in the room could have been stifling.

"You're kidding right, sir?" Scorch asked the question on most of their minds. Besides Alexis, no one else had been privy to the Colonel's plans.

"Good day everyone and remember: Don't be late." With that Brandingson left the briefing room, leaving the pilots in a stunned stupor.

"Seriously…_Starscream!"_ Scorch asked again. "We're screwed, ain't we?"

* * *

"Incompetent fool! I send you on a sparkling's errand, and you come back to me with _excuses!"_ Galvatron lashed out furiously and backhanded Dirge across the faceplates, sending the navy and gold Seeker sprawling across Char's rocky surface.

"I'm sorry my Lord, but it's true!" Dirge cried, shrinking down and cradling his injured cheek plate as Galvatron towered over him. "He's back! I saw him with my own optics! He lives! Starscream lives!" A murmur raced through the gathered ranks of Decepticons as Dirge's words were heard.

"But that is impossible. I saw Lord Galvatron obliterate that traitor with mine own optics. Nothing remained of him but ash and soot. Most of you will do well to remember that," Cyclonus added ominously, eying Astrotrain and then Dirge. The murmurings died down as most of the survivors recalled Starscream's ceremony.

"Silence! All of you!" Galvatron eyed his soldiers angrily, "This changes nothing! We _will_ continue with our plans and both Earth and the Autobots will fall before our might!"

"Sir, if I may," Cyclonus interrupted hesitantly. The full intensity of his leader's glare focused on him. "If Starscream is alive, then he will surely be planning your demise. Might I suggest some form of repressing action."

"That imbecile is of no consequence to me," but Galvatron paused despite himself. "Still, it stirs my curiosity as to what he is doing on Earth or for that matter how he even functions," he mused, almost to himself. He turned back to Dirge. The navy Seeker cowered, cringing away from the intimidating shadow his master cast. He yelped fearfully as Galvatron gripped him around the neck and hoisted him forward.

"I will give you a chance to redeem yourself, Dirge. Return to Earth. Find out how and why Starscream is alive and what his current plans are."

"But…but…but he'll kill me! I know it!"

"_I'll _kill you if you fail me one more time! Now get out of my sight!"

Galvatron violently threw his subordinate to the ground and watched with disdain as the Seeker hastily fumbled to his feet, transformed and rocketed up into the atmosphere. He turned once again to Cyclonus.

"Prepare the Sweeps. We have a short excursion to make."

* * *

"I must admit this is unusual."

"I'm inclined to agree with you, Rodimus. Look at these markings," Springer paused the image playing on the screen, "See these two red stars? They represent the Russian Air Force and you and I both know that the Americans and the Russians have always been on shaky terms with each other since their Cold War. It's obvious to me from this footage that Thrust and Dirge were aiming to stir up trouble."

"Quite. But why? Why now?"

"Huh, since when do Decepticons need a reason to stir up trouble?" a gruff voice interrupted from behind.

Springer chuckled. "Kup's got a point, but still it is highly puzzling that we go nearly three decades without any activity and then _bam! _We've got two Coneheads flying around masquerading as Russian fighters in US airspace."

"One Conehead. Starscream killed Thrust, remember?" Arcee interjected.

"One less we have to deal with," Kup added, rolling his "cigar" from one side to the other.

"Yes, well my question still stands: Why now?"

"Well, according to Starscream he believes Gavaltron is planning an attack on Earth and these 'excursions' are nothing more than a distraction to get Earth's countries' attention off the skies and onto each other."

Rodimus looked at Arcee and then Springer. "And you trust what he says?"

The two envoys glanced at each other. "As much as I hate that slagger, his analysis makes sense to me Prime," Springer replied with a shrug. "If anyone could remotely predict Galvatron's strategy it would be him. After all, he spent most of his life trying to off-line his former leader."

"Yes, but Starscream's track record is less than stellar," Rodimus said. "And having him back from the dead no less doesn't ease my trepidation one bit. He's always worked with an ulterior goal in mind. I just wish I knew what it was." He rubbed his helm irratibly.

"So what's the plan Prime? We can't be standing her jabbing about 'what ifs' and 'could bees' forever. We have a big problem on our servos." Good old Kup; always straight forward and to the point.

"Well, we can't dismiss these claims lightly. Starscream's footage is genuine and that in itself worries me. Arcee, what intel were you able to gather on the Decepticon's last known location?"

"Last traceable transmissions put a sizeable Decepticon force in the Andromeda Sector, but we couldn't pin-point any exact locations."

"Ok, I want you to take Crosshairs, Smokescreen and Air Raid to the Andromeda Sector. Use the _Nebula _to get there. Find those Decepticons and report back as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir," Arcee responded curtly before turning and leaving the Communications Room abruptly.

Rodimus clicked the projection of Starcream's data. The holographic screen blanked and then lit up with a view of Earth. He stared at the projection as if hoping a solution would leap out and confront him.

"What about Earth, sir?" Springer asked hesitantly.

"I'm not going to stir up Earth's fears right now. We need confirmation first." Rodimus turned to Kup. "Bolster our patrols in this system. Do what you can to intercept any transmissions. If you see any contacts, notify me immediately." Kup nodded his affirmation.

"Springer, can you return to Earth and keep an eye on Starscream? I'm still not convinced that he's the ally he says he is and if he's going to be training human pilots I would feel a whole lot better knowing that we had pedes already on the ground should anything happen."

"Understood Rodimus. I'll make preparations to leave immediately."

Once Springer had left, Rodimus continued to stare at the screen. "I thought this war was over once and for all," he said slowly, optics never leaving the screen.

"Nothing's ever really over, kid. I guess Starscream's return is a prime example of that."

Rodimus chuckled despite himself. "Tell me about it." He turned to look at the older soldier. "But Galvatron? I had hoped he was gone for good."

Kup placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder wing. "Kid, just take it one step at a time. Arcee's a good soldier and an even better scout. If there's any trouble going on, she'll find it. You made a good call sending her out." Giving one final pat, Kup turned and left the room leaving Rodimus to his thoughts and his doubts. Something just didn't feel right. Galvatron was still lurking in the depths of the galaxy, the Decepticons were skirting in and out of Earth, and Starscream, the last mech he wanted to deal with had returned from the Pit and was now training humans to fight. Could this situation become anymore bizarre? Rodimus tiredly vented air out his intakes and rewound the footage that Springer and Arcee had taken from Starscream. Over and over again he watched the air battles play out on the screen as if hoping an answer would magically appear before him.

* * *

Alexis wasn't the only one who needed a serious pep talk. Coldstone's mind had been running at Mach 2 ever since he had caught his superior kissing the worst piece of scum in the universe. In fact, he had barely given an ear at the briefing earlier, nodding along dumbly like a cow in a stock chute plodding slowly towards the slaughter house. He vaguely remembered Brandingson saying Starscream would be the new squadron's IP, that new recruits were on their way and Monday would be the beginning of their new training regimen. He really didn't give a damn. Starscream's new position didn't change anything. In Stoner's eyes he was still a back-stabbing, lying, manipulative, bastard that would best serve humanity at the bottom of the ocean or better yet in the heart of the sun.

After the briefing he had exited as quickly as possible, having no desire to see Alexis much less speak with her. In all actuality he really had no desire to speak with anyone. Perhaps that was why he eventually found himself strolling along one of the lesser traveled areas of the base. Old, derelict hangars from old now served as nothing more than glorified storage sheds. By this time the sun had slowly relinquished his control over the skies, leaving them in dazzling disarray. Streaks of red, orange, and yellow washed across the clouds as if spilt from an artist's easel. The darker splotches of purple and blue slowly crept across the zenith, retaking that which the sun had so willingly vacated.

With a scuff of his toe, Jerry loosened a rock from its bed and kicked it unceremoniously across the dry ground. So much had happened and so much was happening right before his eyes.

"Just once, just once I'd love to kick that two-faced, double-crossing Decepticon's ass on my level," he muttered to no one in particular.

"Care to repeat that, Lieutenant?" a soft, raspy voice floated across the darkness.

Coldstone whirled around, the sound of his boots scuffing the dirt unusually loud in the falling darkness. There shrouded in the darkened shadow of one of outbuildings an even darker figure emerged. A flash of inhumanly-red eyes confirmed exactly who it was.

* * *

Humanity. Dirty, inefficient, infantile sacks of fluid. Not to mention meddlesome. _How did I ever sink this far?_ _I was destined for greatness. I was destined to bring Cybertron back to its Golden Age and now look where I am…wallowing with vermin, helping them, instructing them…_and then a particular bittersweet thought crossed his mind…_falling in love with one of them. _He growled angrily, his sudden vocalization causing a wayward tech to skitter out of the hangar more quickly than necessary. What was love anyway? Starscream thought he knew. His first love had been flight-receiving his upgrade, soloing for the first time, feeling the brush of air molecules caressing his wings. Then had come science-its processes, formulas, and discoveries. They filled his spark with a sense of purpose and gratification. When the war started he had feared for its loss, but then a new love overtook him, one that married his love of flight with a new, vibrant and intoxicating passion—warfare.

The winds of war bored down upon him swiftly and rather fall to their harsh shears, he used them to his advantage. They lifted him up higher, farther and faster than any other soldier in the Decepticon Army; of course his leadership experience in Vos may have helped him just a little. He had embraced his new life as a battlefield commander. When he decided to throw in his lot with the Decepticons, all of Vos had followed and consequently the majority of all Seekers. Without Vos' Seekers, the Decepticon resistance would have been much more hard-pressed against the Autobots—so began his rise to power and his fall from grace.

It wasn't long until blind ambition and selfish greed began to dull his senses. The war soon stalled and neither Megatron nor Optimus Prime could make any headway against the other. Senseless battles began to take place. Soldiers killed for the sake of killing. Holy sites, shrines and temples soon became targets followed by the civilians, femmes, and sparklings. Little else mattered other than to degrade the morale of the opposing army. Once again he adapted, hardening his spark so as not to fall prey to his fellow soldiers and soon the façade became his reality. One piece of morality at a time slowly chipped away—battle after battle. It soon became clear that Megatron's leadership was failing and a new vision was needed. Starscream sincerely believed that he was the one that could get it done. Looking back now he was ashamed to admit he had sacrificed his morals, his honor, and ultimately his wingmates to his poorly conceived vision and goals. When it looked as if Megatron wasn't vacating his post anytime soon and the lofty ideals he so vehemently defended began to haze and blur under all the energon spilt, Starscream abandoned his traditional advisory role and began adopting more subtle approaches to usurp his commander's power. When that failed and Megatron started to wise up to his Second's schemes, Starscream dropped subtlety for outright mockery and disdain. As surely as a dog returns to its vomit, Starscream fell to the very same obscurities he had accused Megatron of failing to see. The only ones who had seen it coming were his wingmates.

To that end he had failed—failed the Decepticons, failed his city-state, failed his wingmates and failed himself. It seemed that Primus was still not finished humiliating him. Banned from living, rejected by death he was still trapped in this hideous half-life. He had a body, sure, but it was little more than a shell, a medium through which he could more readily interact with the world around him, a sanctuary that continually haunted him of what he used to be. Strangely enough, he still felt detached from the world, an outsider.

The only time he felt otherwise was when he was with Alexis. For some odd reason that particular fleshling had awoken something within him, something he had thought he had long ago buried under death, destruction, deceit, lies and other immoralities. Starscream found that he genuinely cared for her. The thought didn't bother him nearly as much as it should, but it was there nonetheless, stark and defined against the remaining muddle of what he couldn't even call a life. Without even realizing it, she had given him purpose once more, something actually worth standing up for and to wash himself of the dregs of misery and anguish that had consumed him since his obliteration. Killing Galvatron and ending his reign of madness seemed much more relevant now than it had been before.

Dusk had since settled across the base and Starscream had long since found the dark confines of his hangar far too oppressive for his thoughts. He very well could have taken off and gone for a flight. He knew he would not be stopped, but first, his energy reserves would not have allowed it and second, he did not want the processor-ache such an act would result in when he returned. Having had nearly a full day to recuperate though, he knew he could activate his holoform and use it with minimal depletion to his body and spark. With that in mind, Starscream soon found himself strolling along the darkened streets and pathways of Caldwell, allowing nothing but for his thoughts to run as they pleased. As he remembered his early days in the Decepticon Army and all his decisions that had led him to this point, he paused by an aged building to quietly reflect. Starscream had no idea how long he'd been there when he heard the footsteps. His thoughts faded away like fog before a breeze and he focused his attention on the approaching noise. Whoever it was seemed to be just strolling along, the steps hard and firm. He heard a slight skitter and with his heightened vision, saw a pebble skip haphazardly across the pavement. Soon the source of the footsteps revealed itself and Starscream clamped his jaws hard to keep from growling outright.

Coldstone walked from the darkness his brows furrowed as if in deep thought. It was certainly evident he had something heavy on his mind. Starscream watched silently, not yet willing to give up his location. At first he had no intention whatsoever to even let Coldstone know he was there, but when the pilot spoke a seemingly rogue thought out loud, all inhibitions vanished and his impetuous nature surfaced once more.

He stepped forward, anger blazing in his eyes, "Care to repeat that, Lieutenant?" he hissed.

The pilot spun around, startled. His eyes locked with Starscream's and they glowered at one another, hate radiating from them like heat off a desert floor.

"You…" the human barely whispered his words though faint held an edge as sharp as tungsten blade.

"You wished to see me fleshling?" Starscream whispered with an equal amount of animosity. Coldstone couldn't contain himself any longer. With a howl of rage he launched himself at Starscream's holoform, all rational thought giving way to pure emotion.

He could have dematerialized. He could have disappeared. He could have side-stepped and neatly avoided the rush, but he did nothing. Instead he braced his human body for the impact, a deep primal thing awakening from within-and this time he didn't care if he could rein it back in.


	19. Danger Close

**Chapter 19: Danger Close**

**A/N: Long delay, I know. Had computer problems for over a month, but we're up and rollin' now. To make up for it here is the fight scene I know everyone is dying to read. Hope it doesn't disappoint. A shorter chapter, some action, but mainly this one focuses on plot movement. Thanks for hanging with me everyone. I write for you.**

Coldstone hit his target dead center of the gut. As soon as he made contact he wrapped his arms as tight as possible around Starscream's midsection and drove him backwards, slamming both of them into the side of the building. The decrepit wall shuddered under the impact, small splinters and dust showering down like a fine mist.

The force of the human's charge hit him like a solar wind. Under any other normal circumstance, fighting a filthy meat sack on its terms would have been completely off the table; however, nothing about Starscream's present circumstances could be considered normal. If Coldstone wanted a fight on human terms, then by Primus, he would give it to him and he would hold no quarter. It would have been easy enough to squish the pathetic pilot early on, but for some strange, twisted reason beating the slag out of him "in person" held sooo much more satisfaction.

Without a second thought Starscream raised his left elbow and slammed it down, hard, on Coldstone's lower back. The pilot howled in pain and began to crumple to his knees, dropping his arms from Starscream's midsection. Once Starscream felt Coldstone release him, he clenched his right hand and delivered a vicious upper cut to the human's stomach. All the air rushed from Jerry's lungs and he instinctively gripped his gut, mouth open gasping for air. A second punch knocked him backwards several feet, the force sending him sprawling on his backside.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stoner saw Starscream moving in. Despite the intense pain in his back and stomach he rolled right just as the humanized Decepticon tried to land a kick to his all-ready punished midsection. Rolling to his feet, Coldstone blocked a powerful hook with his left forearm and responded in kind. The punch connected, his knuckles slicing Starscream's cheek open. Surprisingly, the holoform began to bleed and his opponent stepped back, a wicked gleam shining in his inhuman eyes.

"So you do bleed," Stoner hissed, shaking out his right hand.

"I didn't want you to claim foul play," Starscream hissed. "You wanted to fight me on your terms…here's your chance or would you rather cut and run now while you have the chance?"

"Sorry. I don't steal plays from your playbook!" Coldstone responded as he launched into the offensive. Starscream dodged left and ducked under Stoner's follow-up, lashing out with his foot and catching Stoner in the side of the knee. A searing pain shot through his leg and Coldstone felt for sure something cracked. Grinding his teeth, Stoner allowed himself to fall backwards from the strike, but at the same time he lashed out and grabbed Starscream's incoming wrist allowing his momentum to pull them both towards the ground. Still keeping a firm grip on his opponent's forearm, Coldstone planted his good leg in Starscream's abdomen and propelled him over his head.

Starscream landed heavily on his back, the rough gravelly surface tearing into his skin as he slid across the ground. He rolled over just as Coldstone climbed wobbly to his feet, heavily favoring his left leg. _Good. He is weakening. _Starscream lifted himself to his feet and waited, warily watching for the pilot's next move. He had to admit, the tumble had caught him off-guard. The scratches across his back throbbed in painful rhythm as a reminder; strangely enough he liked the ghostly echoes of the feeling. The two combatants slowly began to circle each other like two wolves battling for control over the same pack. Blood and dirt smeared both of their flight suits, reddish-brown hues blossoming across their wounds.

"You really hate me, don't you?" Starscream said as the stand-off continued.

"Hate doesn't even begin to describe it mother fucker!" He stumbled, his injured leg hard-pressed to support his weight. Starscream seized on the chance to end this fight once and for all. He lunged, powerful arms coiling like a viper ready to strike. A tiny smirk of victory pulled his lips into a curl as he threw the punch, anticipating with sheer glee its impact against the human's flesh.

But no impact was forthcoming.

A second too late Starscream realized his error. His fist met clean air as Coldstone ducked under his swing and whipped out a vicious upper cut to his abdomen. He then jabbed with his left and hooked with his right, both punches landing solidly on Starscream's jaw. He reeled backwards, dazed by the sudden onslaught and barely had time to register the roundhouse kick aimed for his head. Instinctively Starscream ducked and leaped backwards out of range, a hand reaching up to wipe the blood from his nose. _A feint! I should have known he'd play up that injured leg! _

It took dodging another volley of punches for him to finally collect his wits and retaliate. _Enough of this sparkling-play! This ends now. _He ducked under another sharp jab from Stoner and stepped forward causing the pilot to miscalculate his next swing. With a quick upward jerk of his forearm, Starscream blocked the blow and grabbed the wrist. In one deft motion he twisted the arm, forcing Coldstone to turn around or risk breaking his arm altogether. The pilot yelped in pain at the unnatural position, twisting and writhing around like a worm on a hook. He kicked out trying to drill Starscream in the knee, but the wily Seeker was not to be duped again. He shoved the twisted limb up and into Coldstone's backside, garnering another shout and a stream of curses.

"Let go of me you sonavabitch!" Another sharp jerk and Stoner grunted, biting back his painful yelp. Mustering as much strength as he could, the pilot threw his left elbow back and drilled his assailant in the temple. He heard a vicious growl and felt his arm being released. He stumbled a few steps forward attempting to put some distance between them, but he needn't have bothered. A powerful kick to his backside sent him tumbling forward and onto the ground. Coldstone tried to roll but his already-punished body just wasn't responding as he wished. He clambered to his feet only to be knocked down once more by a vicious left-hand punch. Blood dribbled from split lips and one eye was already beginning to swell close. His body ached from the punches Starscream had delivered and his leg was now truly beginning to bother him. On hands and knees he stared through a red haze and tried once again to stand. Pain erupted from his ribs as the Decepticon kicked him harshly in the side. Jerry slumped to the ground once more, breaths coming in ragged gasps. He tried once more to rise but couldn't even get his hands and knees underneath him this time. Tired, beaten and finally defeated he collapsed onto the ground and waited for the inevitable.

The sound of footsteps may well have been the death toll to him. With his vision blurry and the red haze only increasing, he could barely make out the pair of feet inches from his nose. One foot remained planted as the other nudged him under the arm; he groaned involuntarily as the toe of the boot rolled him over onto his backside.

"Go on. Finish it," he croaked through bloodstained lips. He saw Starscream kneel, the red eyes flashing brightly. This was it. He had made his claim and failed. It was such a bitter feeling. The only satisfaction he could stomach was that if Starscream decided to kill him here and now, perhaps someone would put two-and-two together and the bastard would finally be revealed for what he truly was. He closed his eyes, melancholy acceptance weighing upon his lids. Starscream knelt before his fallen foe, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes, but had Coldstone looked harder he would have seen something else.

_Go on. Finish it._ The words floated up and tickled his ear, tempting the Seeker to within nanoclicks of his restraint. "With pleasure," Starscream hissed as he raised his fist. He paused briefly and then without a second thought he brought it down with as much strength as he could muster in his human body.

* * *

_Laughter. All the beer you could drink. And of course…the women! What more could a man ask for? He wrapped his arms around a sumptuous blonde beauty, her green eyes dancing with delight and something a little more. He slowly began kissing her neck, tongue teasing the soft peach-colored skin with the promise of so much more. She laughed lightly, blonde waves brushing against his face as she squirmed under his kisses. She turned at that point, luscious pink lips slightly parted and waiting expecting. He slowly moved in. This was it! He'd have her after this! Just…a…little…closer…_

_Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!_

"Scorch" Martin bolted upright from his cozy, warm bed at the sound of the sharp rapping, his wonderful dream evaporating like water from a boiling kettle. _What in the hell! I was so close! Why? Why now? Who in the hell would be up at this time of night?_

With a muzzy ear he waited to see if the noise would repeat itself. _Maybe I imagined it. That's it. Maybe I…imagined…it._ He had almost convinced himself of the fact, head drifting back towards the pillow when the noise did indeed repeat itself.

_KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!_

More insistent this time. Something was definitely up. Groggily he slumped from the bed, eyes half awake and mind even less so. With an audible click, he pulled the deadbolt and then opened the door only to be nearly bowled over by a limp body. He caught the person under the arms, a low moan breaking the unusual silence. Scorch stumbled under the weight, realizing belatedly it was the limp, bloodied and beaten body of his best friend. If he wasn't awake then, he was wide awake now. Shocked beyond words he glanced up to see Starscream's holoform before him. Unlike Coldstone, nary a mark smeared his appearance.

"If anyone asks, he got in a bar fight."

With a curt turn of the heel, the apparition took a step and then disappeared, leaving a bewildered pilot in his wake. Recovering quickly, he drug Coldstone the rest of the way into his room and shut the door.

_My God buddy! You gotta lay off the beers! PT test is coming up! _

With a grunt he heaved Coldstone's body up onto his bed and began to take his boots off. In any event Stoner was out like a blown light bulb. After the boots, came the flight suit. He stripped his friend down all the way to his undershirt and boxers, eyes wide and astounded at the amount of bruises.

_Bar fight my ass! You got your ass whooped by a meat tenderizer buddy._

Several large, purple bruises were blossoming across the ribcage, growing darker and larger even as he watched. One particularly bad bruise swallowed half his face and his entire right eye. Shallow cuts dotted his arms, chest and face. The left knee was swollen to more than twice its normal size and dried blood flaked off the filthy skin. Scorch stood and slowly swept a hand through his blonde hair. Sleep for the rest of the night was out of the question.

* * *

The first thing Jerry's muddled mind could comprehend was the pain—dull, achy pain radiating from head to toe. He hadn't felt this badly since passing SERE School. It hurt to move; it hurt to lie still; it even hurt to blink his eyes.

The next thing he comprehended was that he was no longer out in the open in the dark of the night; rather he was now laying on a semi-hard surface and the soft rustle of fabric against his flesh indicated he had been blanketed. _Strange. I don't remember any of this._

A soft thump drew his attention. Glancing sideways he saw the soft silhouette of Scorch leaning forward on a folding chair. A dry grin parted the blonde's lips. "Good to see you awake, Stoner," he said softly, rising to his feet and kneeling at the bedside.

"Good to see you too," Coldstone replied, his lips dry and parched. "Got any water?"

"Sure," Scorch replied, standing and disappearing for a moment. He returned shortly thereafter carrying a small glass.

Stoner took it gratefully and gulped half its contents. His thirst slicked for now, he handed the glass back to Scorch and asked, "What happened? How'd I get here?"

"Good question. Your buddy Starscream practically dropped you on my doorstep. You were out like a light and looked like this," he gestured up and down Stoner's body, indicating the bruises.

Stoner contemplated that for a moment. "He brought me here?"

Scorch nodded.

"Did he say anything?"

"Said if anyone asked you got in a bar fight." Scorch arched an eyebrow as Jerry cursed under his breath.

"Is it true?"

"Fuck no it isn't true! We ran into each other out back of the hangars."

Scorch raised a dubious eyebrow. "And?"

Coldstone grew indignant. "What do you mean 'and'? He beat the living shit out of me!"

"Then you must have rolled over and let him 'cause I didn't see a gnat's scratch on him," came the sardonic reply. Coldstone's face flushed a deep crimson, well, the parts that weren't already eggplant purple. He then let loose with a stream of curses that would have made the saltiest sailor shake his head in shame. To his credit, Scorch let him vent; although he still wasn't quite sure what had happened out there, he doubted he could get a question in edge-wise at this point. Finally, two minutes and 26 seconds later, Jerry had calmed enough to hold a rational conversation; albeit, his face was still flushed with anger and embarrassment.

"Look. We bumped into each other, had an exchange of words and then exchanged some blows." He arbitrarily neglected to mention he had been the one to throw the first punch. But that didn't really matter now, did it?

"Hey man, I didn't say you _didn't _get in a fight with him, I just said it looks like he handed your ass to you," his friend smirked. "It didn't even look like you put a scratch on him." He paused for a moment. "But what in the hell made you think you could fight a ghost and win anyway?"

Stoner groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. He was glad to have such a confident in Scorch, but that did little to ease the pain his ego was about to undertake.

* * *

Staff Sergeant Ross Pennington was quite proud of his position. After all, he was working hard on his degree and steaming right along to having a successful career in law enforcement once he finished his enlistment. He greatly enjoyed being a part of the Air Force's Security Force and was absolutely certain it had been the right step to take. But at the moment, Sergeant Pennington felt a little cross and the fresh breakfast that had been prepared in the dining facility did little to abate his foul temper.

"Hey Ross-man! What's up bro?" a fellow defender asked lightly, either not seeing or not caring for his friend's stormy countenance.

"Oh. Hey Joe," he said distractedly, fumbling with a spoonful of scrambled eggs.

"Something up?" Joe asked taking a seat across from Pennington.

"Heard a fight last night. Big one. Went to investigate and couldn't find the fuckers." He shoveled another mouthful of eggs into his mouth and then took a deep drought of coffee.

"So that's what all the chatter was about last night. Heard a little over the radio but I was half way across base. You guys couldn't track 'em?" Joe said while digging into his own breakfast.

"Chased them about a quarter mile behind the hangars and then lost them in the shanties," Ross responded, using the colloquial term for the storage sheds. "We should have caught them!" he exploded in an unusual show of anger. Pennington rarely lost his cool, an invaluable trait in his line of work, but on the same token losing his quarry was the equivalent of failure to do his duty, a blow he took rather personally. "Crazy thing is Joe, the one guy was carrying the other! Now I'm no rocket scientist, but logic says I should have been able to run 'em down easily! Guy was like a jackrabbit."

Joe grunted in affirmation, his mouth too full to utter a spoken reply. He swallowed loudly and just shook his head, "Can't catch 'em all Ace. Don't take it too hard." He patted his friend on the shoulder before standing and taking his tray back towards the dump cans.

Sergeant Pennington didn't respond, his mind still trying to comprehend how one airman could carry another and still out-run an unencumbered officer. Some things just didn't make sense.

Unbeknownst to either of the two defenders, Alexis had also been enjoying her breakfast while in close proximity of their conversation. She didn't think much of it; incidents like that happened every once in a while. Not giving the overheard conversation any more thought she rose and deposited her empty tray back on the racks and left the facility.

* * *

Jason "Jaybird" McPherson was genuinely excited. Today was the day. Today was the day he would advance to his new squadron. Special orders from the Secretary of Defense himself! And to the 42nd Fighter Wing no less. He among hundreds had been chosen to fill one of the coveted slots for the new wing that was being re-built. It had been tragic what had happened to the others. Whoever had dared to invade American airspace would surely pay a steep price for the blood of fellow pilots killed. The higher-ups were still trying to determine which country the aircraft had come from, so for now he and the other young bucks were on high alert. Of course, there were rumors—it had been the Chinese, the Russians, North Koreans, aliens…McPherson snorted at the last thought. Aliens…it had been three decades since the last sizeable alien invasion force had left. High Orbiting Meteor-Engaging Rockets, or HOMERS to the missile guys, had been in place for 15 of those years. Supposedly developed to engage rogue space junk and other "space-bound debris," anyone with a grain of intuition knew those orbiting missiles could just as well shoot down any invading extra-terrestrial force.

That was the theory; practically speaking a missile needed a lock-on before it could engage a target. While developers swore up one side and down the other the HOMER could lock onto "debris" half the size of a space capsule, an alien that could transform at will was not exactly a mindless piece of debris. It seemed that someone forgot to put that in the memo to the designers just before the engineering process got underway.

This one small oversight mixed with a pilot's presumption would eventually cost Jason "Jaybird" McPherson his life. Little did the ambitious young man know that he would never reach his destination, that the flight he was about to undertake would be his last and that "alien invaders" were a very real threat.

* * *

**A/N: Kinda ominous ain't it? XD! Things get really interesting next chapter as the new boys start arriving for the formation of the new 42****nd**** Fighter Squadron. For all those who aren't aware, "Danger Close" is a military phrase communicated to friendly forces that their artillery fire is dangerously close to hitting other friendlies. In this case, I use it to indicate just how close Starscream comes to killing Coldstone—friendly against friendly.**


	20. SNAFU

**Chapter 20: SNAFU**

**A/N: I'm pleased to present for your reading pleasure another update. I know I said last chapter I'd be bringing in the new recruits, but that didn't quite happen. But I feel this chapter brings some good development to the story and helps complete the events of the last chapter. Well, enough prattle! Hope you enjoy. Internet cookies to those who figure out the title meaning ;)**

"_Victor 1, Refuel is complete. You may disengage."_

"_Thanks, Pumpman. Don't work too hard now."_

"_Told you you should have been a heavy driver, Jaybird. Shame you can't share a cup of coffee with us."_

McPherson could hear the smile in the boom operator's voice. There was some truth in that statement. He couldn't exactly stand and stretch his legs anytime he wanted, but he felt the trade-off was worth a few cramps every now and then.

"_You boys enjoy your coffee. I'm perfectly happy doing the real work around here."_

"_Roger that Jaybird,"_ the operator replied with a chuckle. _"You know, staying in those fantasies for too long can be damaging to your ego." _The reservist chided right back. "_Stay sharp, ya hear? You've got some heavy weather brewing towards the southwest. I might wanna consider landing at McConnell if it gets too bumpy."_

"_Roger that Pumpman. I'll see you boys later. Victor 1 out."_ With that McPherson banked lazily to the left, watching as the Stratotanker slowly became nothing but a large whitish dot in the sky. It was his last top-off before landing at Caldwell; he wasn't due in for another three hours. Adjusting his course, he settled back into his seat and allowed the autopilot to gently steer the plane in the needed direction. His eyes wandered to the console and caught sight of the photo taped to the console. As soon as things settled down he planned to ask that beautiful brunette to marry him. It was a simple photo. She had her arms locked around his neck in a playful embrace. Long locks of chocolate hair dipped over his shoulder and her green eyes were alight with playfulness. A bright, sun-shiny day backlit the picture; it had been taken in her parent's backyard.

As excited as the lieutenant had been to accept the assignment, it didn't come without its disappointments. He hadn't even been able to tell Barbara where he was going or when he'd be back, but she promised to wait for him, even as she had for the two previous deployments they had gone through. For being in the military, it was always the needs of the service. With a heavy sigh, 1st Lieutenant Jason McPherson settled once more and watched as the Sierra Nevada Mountains slowly grew on the horizon. He never saw the dangerous shadow tailing his bird.

* * *

Human weapons systems had come an extremely long way since their earlier engagements at the end of the century. They were still capable of great harm and if one wasn't careful deactivation. However, decades of lack of contact coupled with relatively peaceful conditions between the nations had slowly cultivated the perfect atmosphere for hostile surveillance and re-entry. Rigid watch procedures had grown lax, technological advancements in alien detection had slowed—with no threat in 30 years why worry about improving the systems? Orbital watch teams were slowly cut back and radar interception equipment were diverted to other uses. Such complacency created the perfect opening for Soundwave to position himself in orbit and aide a fellow Decepticon in sowing the seeds of humanity's destruction.

Comfortably positioned in the lower atmosphere, it was simple enough to avoid and jam the orbital defense platforms. Next came the ground-based radars within the vicinity of the planned area of engagement. Rough weather over the Sierra Nevadas made his task even more superfluous. Rough terrain made radar detections tricky in any event; having hazardous weather would almost guarantee no interference from other aircraft. It was with great fortune that the human pilot had foolishly decided to forge ahead through the mountain range. It would make hiding any evidence of a mishap an extremely easy task. After all, planes went down in mountainous areas all the time, didn't they? Especially in bad weather.

All variable conditions were at their maximum beneficial advantage. There would never be a more opportune moment than now.

"_Dirge, prepare to commence Operation: Doppleganger."_Mercifully "Jaybird" McPherson never knew what took his life. He had only enough time to register his airborne collision warning tone and a quick glance out his cockpit. Swiveling his head, his eyes saw a blinding flash of pure purple light engulfing both he and his jet. The craft was instantaneously obliterated, nothing more than a puff of black smoke being swept away in the snowy winds over the Sierra Nevadas. Small fragments of the fuselage no larger than a car door fell from the sky to land on the snow-covered slopes only to be quickly hidden by the rising fury of the mountain blizzard. And carried off on one of these wintry winds, floated a photograph of a happy couple that was never meant to be.

* * *

Within seconds, another F-15 Eagle had taken the place of the former and in the cockpit, 1st Lieutenant "Jaybird" McPherson manned the controls, or rather the appearance of him. Thanks to high resolution images, courtesy of Soundwave, along with a little data-high jacking, Dirge knew everything he needed to know in order to pass himself off as the now deceased pilot—and the beauty of the plan was no one would be the wiser until it was too late. It would be months before anyone could find the pieces of the wrecked aircraft, probably even longer since no one would know the jet was missing. As long as Soundwave could remain in position and help block his personal signature, no one, not even Starscream or the Autobots would or _could_ tell the difference.

* * *

Springer had radioed ahead his intentions to return to the air base. When he finally touched down on the helipad it was without all the fanfare and crowds he had had earlier. That was just as well; Springer wasn't exactly fond of attention anyway. He transformed smoothly and glanced around taking in the noticeable lack of activity on the base. _Am I even on the right base?_ He asked himself jokingly. It was definitely a far cry from the hustle and bustle when he and Arcee had met with the Colonel and the Secretary of Defense. "_Can't believe the humans are this lackadaisical with Starscream hanging around."_

A soft "harrumph" drew Springer's attention downward. An airman, Staff Sergeant according to his stripes Springer noted, was standing somewhat patiently waiting for his attention.

"Staff Sergeant Tony Alvarez, sir. I was asked to meet you here and show you around, Mr. uh Autobot, sir," the sergeant stumbled a little. Springer smiled and knelt down, extending a digit for a handshake.

"It's Springer, sergeant. No need for formalities with me, but if I may ask where is Colonel Brandingson today? I'm surprised he's not here."

"The colonel is busy preparing to receive the new recruits to the Wing, sir. He and the others have a big day tomorrow seeing as how Monday they're going to be starting training ops," Alvarez replied easily, even if his "handshake" was somewhat hesitant.

"I see. That's no problem."

"Well come this way, sir. I'm sure after your long flight you'd like to top off you fuel tanks," suggested the sergeant. Springer stood and smiled, blue optics twinkling.

"Now that's a good idea." It wasn't energon, but by Primus it was better than nothing.

* * *

_Thank God it's only Saturday_, Coldstone thought groggily as he finally pulled himself from bed. God, he hurt all over. Starscream really had worked him over. _Never expected an alien robot to know how to fist-fight,_ he thought ruefully while rubbing one of his tender ribs. He glanced around noticing the absence of his wingman. A brief note was left in the chair:

_Gone for chow. Be back shortly. –Scorch_

It was just as well; Stoner's stomach rumbled hungrily at the thought of food. There was nothing to do but wait, so with some painful effort, Coldstone walked over and flicked the television on, hobbling back to the bed like a maimed penguin. Monday morning was going to be painful indeed.

Meanwhile, Scorch had opted to skip the dining facility and decided to indulge him and his wingman on some terribly-bad-for-you-but-oh-so-good fast food at the Base Exchange. After all the crap Stoner had been through lately, Scorch figured a burger or two was just the thing to bring his spirits back up. What he hadn't counted on was bumping into Clarissa while on his way out of the BX.

"Hungry Scorchy?" she chided him playfully, while eyeballing the bag of delicious smelling food.

"Eating in tonight. Coldstone's not doing so well today," he responded casually.

"Oh, is he sick or something?"

Martin mentally slapped himself. _Way to go, you idiot!_ "Uh, yeah you might say that." He instantly remembered Starscream's given excuse and flew with it. "He got in a bar fight the other night."

"Bar fight! This close to Training Day! What in the hell was he thinking? Can he still fly?" Clarissa burst out; concern and anger all rolling together like two streams meeting to form a river. She for one liked flying with the cocky sonavabitch, although she would never come right out and say it. Arrogant bastard though he was, Coldstone had proven his worth as a pilot consistently and it was going to be hard enough getting used to newbies without losing _another_ member, no matter the reason.

"Yeah, probably. Nothing's broken; just a lot of bruising. I think he'll manage. After all, he won't stand for Spades to show him up, now will he?" Scorch replied smoothly, hoping against hope that his answer had satisfied his overly-curious squadron-mate.

Clarissa laughed, "Yeah! You're right. Stoner would have to be in a wheelchair before he'd let her beat him at anything! And even then, they'd have to put wheel locks on it to keep him from trying!"

They shared a laugh together before parting ways, Clarissa still giggling over the absurd image of Coldstone grounded in a wheelchair and Scorch thanking his lucky stars for dodging a particularly nasty bullet. If their luck could hold, perhaps he and Stoner could skate by on Starscream's bar fight excuse. Fighting within the ranks could be grounds for court marshal and at this point Starscream was considered a higher rank than everyone with exception to the colonel. If the Decepticon really wanted to he could make Stoner's life miserable. It was then Scorch paused, considering the irony of what he just thought. _Wait, he already excels in that department._The peaceful silence of Alexis' morning shattered with the resounding bang of their barracks door flying open. She looked up startled, her novel forgotten for the moment. Clarissa bounced into the room, carrying a few bare essentials that she had picked up from the Exchange.

* * *

"Any particular reason to slam the door open or were you working on your forcible entry technique again?"

"Hey! Learning to break down a door could come in handy one day," Clarissa called over her shoulder as she placed her bags on a small table.

"Yeah well I for one am not in any hurry to replace our door…_AGAIN!" _Alexis snipped right back, being sure to put full emphasis on the last word.

"It was just one time, 'Lexi! And besides, I was drunk then!"

"All the more reason to not kick our door in while you're _sober, _Clare," she retorted while laying her book down and standing to help her roommate store the purchases. "So, how was the BX?" Alexis asked, deciding to change the subject.

"Fine, just fine. Ran into Scorch on the way out," Clarissa replied, tucking a role of paper towels in a drawer.

"What? And Coldstone wasn't dogging his heels? Now that's unusual."

"We'll be lucky to even see Coldstone Monday," the redhead quipped.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Turns out he got in a bar fight last night. Scorch is doctoring him up so he'll be half-way flight capable come then." She turned and threw the plastic bags into the garbage can. Alexis started to laugh until something clicked in her mind. Her mind raced backwards to earlier that morning, to at the time, an insignificant, overheard conversation that had provided some mild amusement over breakfast. _What if…No, it can't be related; these types of things happen all the time. The chances of it being the same incident are slim, not to mention he was probably off base anyway. Still, I should go and check on him; make sure he's okay to fly Monday. _She continued to laugh and smile, sharing in the joke with her best friend and roommate; however, Alexis was secretly thankful that her friend never noticed that her laughter didn't quite reach her eyes.

* * *

It was sometime later that afternoon Alexis managed to scrounge up time to get away from Tomcat and make her way over to the male barracks. Normally she wouldn't even be on this side of the building, but having rank had its privileges. She was still squadron leader after all and what kind of a leader would she be if she didn't check to see if her team was fully functional?

No one harried her as she entered the corridor and began navigating the winding halls to Stoner and Scorch's room. Several twists and turns later she arrived; the soft voices of a cable channel filtered through the door, but other than that no other sounds could be heard. She tapped lightly on the door. The sound of footsteps approached and a minute later, the boyish face of Scorch Martin appeared.

"Captain! I…uh…we, uh, weren't expecting you. Something up?" the pilot asked surprise plainly evident in his voice. He glanced over his shoulder nervously and then back to her.

"Well that depends, Scorch. I heard it through the grapevine that Stoner got in a little tangle last night. I came to see for myself," Alexis replied smoothly. She smiled sweetly to emphasize that this wasn't an official visit.

Scorch looked over his shoulder once more as if getting confirmation. He then opened it wider and said, "Sure Captain, come on in."

She stepped in slowly, green eyes immediately settling on the slumped figure in the other bed. Most would have probably felt sympathy, or winced at the immense, black bruise covering the face; Alexis felt overwhelming guilt. _What if this was because of me? Because he saw us?_

"How are you feeling?" she asked tentatively.

"Like I was hit by a freight train," Stoner replied, eyeing Alexis warily. "What do you care?"

She winced at the hostility in his tone, stung but not surprised by it. "Because I'm your commanding officer, that's why." This conversation was going to need some privacy. "Scorch, could you please excuse us?"

"Sure Spades. No prob," the junior officer said, giving his friend one last look before slipping out the door. Its normally quiet _click_ reverberated through the room like the hammer action on a pistol.

"I'm not going to have this argument with you again, Spades, so just save your breath and walk on out of here," Coldstone said icily, his eyes matching the temperature of his words. Seeing her here set his mind into a maelstrom of swirling emotions. _Does she know? Did Starscream tell her?_

"I'm not here to argue with you Stoner; I'm here because I care about you."

"Yeah, it really shows." _Low blow, but ever so true._ He watched her wince, simultaneously pleased and dismayed with himself.

"Look, I don't know what came over me. It happened so quickly—"

"Stop! With all due respect, _Captain_, I don't want to hear it. I know what I saw and you certainly don't have to explain it to me. Honestly_ him? _Have you lost your mind! He's not even of the same race and you're fawning over him like a first-time boyfriend. Have you even thought of the implications, the consequences of what you're doing? " He stared at her blank face, gauging for a reaction. When no words of defense were forth coming he said, "I didn't think so."

As carefully as she could Alexis composed her answer. It took every ounce of her will to keep from bursting into tears. The only other friend who knew what she had gone through, who knew what a complicated predicament she had become entangled with, was turning his back to her. Could she blame him? She knew he had feelings for her and what he had seen was almost comparable to being caught cheating. The only thing was…they were never dating to begin with. So, why did she feel so horrible? With a poise far better said than she felt, Alexis made her reply. "Well, it's good to know where you stand on this issue, lieutenant."

She turned on her heel and slammed the door on her way out, making a hasty retreat back through the corridors. She barely noticed Scorch coming from the opposite direction—her only goal, to make it out of the building emotionally intact.

* * *

Scorch flattened himself against the wall as his commander rushed passed, barely giving him time to snap off a farewell before continuing onward. He'd never seen Spades upset before, but it was as plain as day that she and Coldstone's conversation hadn't gone so well. It wasn't lost on him that his friend had the hots for the commander; their relationship was complex to say the least. God, some days he felt as if he were participating in a live, military version of _Days of Our Lives_; it seemed this was going to be another one of those days. He resumed his trek back to his quarters wondering what state of mind he'd find Stoner in. He had an idea he wouldn't like what he found in any event.

As soon as Alexis had left, slamming the door behind her, Coldstone snarled angrily and lashed out with his fist, striking the wall in his blind anger. A slew of curses followed in which Scorch walked right into the midst of the fit. He paused, wide-eyed in the doorway, debating between walking back to the rec room or staying to weather the storm.

"Goddammit, I fucked that up!"

Torn between what he'd like to do and what he wanted to do, Scorch opted to stay. Debate solved. "Fucked what up, Stoner? Your wrist, your chances with Spades, or both?" Scorch asked innocently, sitting backwards in the vacated computer chair.

"Both. I let my temper get the better of me…again," he slumped back into the bed, trying to ignore the pulse-pounding throb of his hand and the more subtle pain in his heart. That could have gone better, a lot better, and he had chosen to totally blow it. His chances of getting with Alexis had gone from 50/50 to zero in the span of time it took to go full afterburner. Granted seeing her kissing that alien filth had hurt, but it didn't hurt anywhere near as bad as seeing the pain in her eyes and knowing he was the cause of it.

Scorch knew he shouldn't ask but against his better judgment he did anyway. "What did you say to her?"

"I basically said I didn't want to listen to anything she had to say and that she had made her choice clear when I saw her kissing that…that disgusting 'Con; she wasn't thinking about what she was doing among other things." He sighed heavily. "Fucked up, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I'd say you did," Scorch opined. Stoner ran his hands through his hair and down his face. "Man, did you ever stop to consider that maybe she doesn't have a choice in all this?"

Coldstone met his friend's gaze with a look close to hopelessness. "She looked like a willing party to me."

"Yeah, so? Christ! Stoner, look at what she's dealt with since he showed up. A member of her crew still hospitalized, verbal threats, _two _separate Con attacks, and the loss of more than half our squadron. I'm surprised she's still functioning! With all that crazy shit, is it any wonder she's gonna respond to the first hints of empathy, whether or not it's from the very same asshole who caused it to begin with? Think about it, bro. First he terrorizes her and then he wins her over little by little, step by step. If she's not getting the support she needs from friends or family, she's naturally gonna turn to the first person who gives it, especially if that person can exercise any measure of control over her situation."

"For Pete's sake Scorch, you sound like a fucking psychologist!" Stoner groused, rubbing his temples in a vain attempt to understand his friend's thinking. It did make sense in a strange, twisted kind of way.

Martin chuckled, "Well I did major in Psychology, ya know?"

"Oh God, help me! I have to fly with a shrink for a wingman!"

"I thought you knew what I took in college?" Scorch asked innocently.

"Hell no! I was probably too drunk when you told me."

"Yeah probably. Well anyway, it sounds like to me Spades may be developing Stockholm Syndrome," Scorch finished, a more thoughtful gaze entering his eyes.

"You really think so?" he asked, still trying to wrap his brain over Scorch's sudden psychology lecture.

His friend merely shrugged. "Just because I have the degree doesn't make me an expert, but we spent a good bit of time on case studies about it. In my opinion, it's something to be considered."

Coldstone mulled the information over. It did make sense and the whole scenario surrounding Alexis' behavior towards Starscream did fit the billet. Question was when did a victim stop being a victim and become an accomplice? Where exactly was that line? Then again, if Starscream really was on their side, then what? No crime, no accessory and there wasn't exactly a dating guidebook on how to handle extra-terrestrial relationships, now was there? Nor was there a law preventing it. But in his mind, it just wasn't _natural_. Stockholm Syndrome? Maybe. He wouldn't discount it, not yet. Like Scorch said, it was something to consider and file away for later. Something else hung in the back of his mind as well: his fight with Starscream. That metal devil could have very well killed him tonight, at the very least, he could have left him out in the open to be discovered by the night watch—but Starscream did neither. He had taken his sorry ass to Scorch and even gave a cover-story to boot. What was the deal? Did Starscream think he now owed him? He mentally snorted. _Yeah, I guess I do. _But if Starscream expected him to give up Alexis in exchange, he had another thing coming. But boy, was it going to be an uphill battle now.

"Well, if that's so, buddy, I just made my job a whole hell of a lot harder."

"What job would that be?" Scorch asked just for the hell of it. He perfectly knew the answer even before Stoner uttered a word.

A look of melancholy and pain crossed Coldstone's face. A man humbled once again. "Winning her back."

* * *

Springer had to admit that for a desolate piece of real estate, the desert could be pretty fraggin' beautiful. His tanks topped off and his systems recovering from the long flight, there was little else he could do but observe the goings-on of the base and stay out of the way. Sgt. Alvarez had pointed out all the essentials—where to go, where not to go, fly zones, no-fly zones, really just all the bureaucratic nonsense. Some airmen and soldiers had stopped by to ask a few friendly questions or to chit-chat, but overall he had pretty much been left alone. _I wonder if that's Starscream's precedent? He never was the best first-encounter experience there ever was,_ he thought wryly.

A younger Autobot, Springer had never really had the privilege of fighting the infamous Seeker himself. He had been stationed in the Gamma Quadrant with Kup for much of the Sol Campaign. But Kup remembered him, remembered him well in fact.

"_He's a coldblooded killer, kid; remember that. He'd as soon as shoot ya as look at ya. And he'd shoot you so you'd die, slowly, painfully—so you'd have to listen to him laugh at you as you felt your life drain away."_

_Primus, Kup. You talk as if it happened personally."_

"_It did. Only his monologue got interrupted when Prime topped over the hill and cut his speech short. Not everyone was as lucky as me."_

Springer shook his head, clearing his thoughts. There were other tales as well. It seemed every seasoned Autobot had a horror story to tell about Starscream and the Trine and Springer would bet his finest energon stores, that a more than a few humans did too. Still, with all that in mind he found it absolutely confounding that these humans were as nonchalant about his presence as they were. He had always been an astute observer; he was in fact a member of the Autobot Reconnaissance Team. A top notch scout, very little escaped his attention. Observing behavioral patterns often indicated a trend towards action or the lack thereof. So what was he missing here?

"Lost Autobot?"

The sudden proximity of the question caused the Osprey to jump. He whirled around to see Starscream standing not far behind him, a smug smirk pulling on his lips. _I can tell I'm already going to hate this job._

"Primus, you nearly made my fuel pump stop," Springer said, blue optics warily regarding his target for this mission. _You're definitely a sneaky son-of-a-glitch I'm gonna have to be particularly watchful with you._

"Perhaps that was the point," the Decepticon countered, raising an optic ridge while stepping up beside the rotary. He watched Springer carefully for a reaction. He had, in fact, been watching the Autobot for the better part of the day. He figured the Autobots wouldn't let his autonomy among the humans go unchallenged. How curious it was their Command had sent one of their younger, inexperienced soldiers. This would perhaps be more interesting than he had originally planned.

"I'm sure if you wanted me dead, I'd already be there, Seeker." To the Autobot's surprise, Starscream laughed shrilly. _Yep, definitely don't want to hear that if I'm preparing to off-line._

"I'm pleased to see at least one Autobot respects my authority here." Springer didn't know if the 'Con was joking, or being serious, so he decided it was best not to comment on the matter. Instead he turned his attention back to the sunset and watched the vibrant color scene play across the horizon.

Silence stretched between them and it suddenly struck Springer that this was probably the first time since before the War a Decepticon and an Autobot had stood together, side-by-side, without trying to rip each other's circuitry out. It was a humbling moment, if a little unsettling.

"So why are you here, Autobot?" the jet asked without looking at him.

"You honestly don't believe we'd let you head a human military division without our supervision, do you?"

"One could only hope," came the reply. "Your presence is welcome though unwarranted."

"Come again?" the copter asked, surprise lacing his voice. Surely he had misunderstood. Autobot presence—welcome? Yes, he had to have heard incorrectly.

"I said, 'your presence is welcome though unwarranted.' Do we have an audio malfunction?"

Nope. No malfunction. Slag. "And just what do you mean by that?" Springer asked, apprehension slowly building in his frame. _Where is he going with this?_

Once again Starscream smiled. This was going nicely; more so than he had anticipated. The Autobots wanted to interfere? So be it.

"Why my dear Autobot _ally,"_ the last word spoken with oily sweetness, "as Instructor for these humans it is imperative that they know what they're up against. Your appearance, while unexpected, is most fortuitous to my training regimen. Now the humans will have an aggressor upon which they can practice their techniques."

For a full astrosecond, Springer was speechless. Maybe his audios were malfunctioning after all. "But Starscream, I'm only here for observation. _You're _the one supposed to be doing the training."

"And I shall be, but let's not forget that there are other tactics on the battlefield besides my own. Your participation shall aide my students in applying what I've taught. What better way to juxtapose our two very different fighting techniques and determining any weaknesses….hmmm? How do the humans put it? 'Broadening horizons', yes? Besides, there is no better place to conduct an accurate observation than in the midst of combat. See you in two solar cycles," he smirked knowingly.

And with that, Starscream gave the Autobot a rough pat on the shoulder before dematerializing as silently as he had come. Springer exhaled a great blast of hot air from his vents. _This isn't going to be as easy as I had hoped._


End file.
